


Heroes We Were

by imaginingstars



Series: Ghost Of Ohio verse [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Character Death In A Non-Canon Way, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Direct Quotes, M/M, Missing Scenes, Near Death Experiences, POV Frank Castle, POV Matt Murdock, Past Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios, The First Half Of This Is Genuinely Just The Defenders But Frank's There Too, Things Start Changing Up In The Second Half Though, lax interpretations of exactly how dead the members of the Hand are, somehow i accidentally gave Frank and Danny a broment so thats a thing, switching POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginingstars/pseuds/imaginingstars
Summary: Matt's been retired for well over a year and his relationship with Frank makes the normal life all the sweeter. Unfortunately, an earthquake and a favour for Foggy will pull him reluctantly back into the world of vigilantes that he'd thought he'd escaped. He won't be going alone though - Frank's by his side every step of the way.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Series: Ghost Of Ohio verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940530
Comments: 28
Kudos: 84





	Heroes We Were

**Author's Note:**

> We made it! This is supposed to be the last instalment of this series, unless at some point in the distant future I get overwhelmed with the urge to do this for the first season of The Punisher too.
> 
> Please be warned that, unlike in earlier instalments of this series, quite a lot of lines of dialogue are lifted directly from The Defenders. That chills out somewhat as the fic goes on, but do bear in mind that, whereas the other stuff which is my own plot, this is trying to fit the canon divergence into a pre-existing show, so it’s nowhere near as original. It’s mostly as canon until episode 6, when things take a turn. Some scenes are expanded, though, and in most of them, there’s more of an insight into Matt’s mind, as well as the continuous presence of Frank at least in those thoughts, if not in many scenes to begin with. At some points, too, it also screamed to switch perspectives, so for the first time in this series, you get Frank’s point of view as well.
> 
> Title from Heroes We Were by Andy Black

“Frank, do you know where my–”

“Your notes for today are in your briefcase, along with your lunch.” 

“And what about my–” 

“Your suit jacket’s on the floor where you threw it last night.” 

“You mean where _you_ threw it last night.” 

“Whatever you say, Matty,” Frank says. Matt can just _tell_ that he’s smirking, but he lets it go as he grabs the jacket from the ground, dusts it off, and throws it on. 

“Shit, I’m going to be late.” 

“You’re gonna be perfectly on time. Settle down. You’re gonna do great.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so. Been on the receiving end of your lawyering, and if it weren’t for that piece of shit Fisk, you’d probably have got me off.” 

“You say that as if Fisk’s the one who stood up in court and yelled about being the Punisher,” Matt says wryly. 

“Ah, fuck. You know what I mean. If he hadn’t said he had information, then,” Frank counters lightly, before adding, “Your right shoelace is undone.” 

“Oh, shit.” Matt bends down and toes the offending lace, before rushing out the words, “You’re the best, have a good day at work, love you.” He presses a quick kiss to Frank’s lips and heads for the door. 

“Love you too!” Frank calls after him as the door swings closed. 

Matt practically runs out of the door. He’d meant to practice his cross-examination once more before he left, but he’d been distracted by Frank. Not that he’s complaining – he’d take being a minute or two late any day of it meant more time with Frank. Jesus, he’s got sappy. 

He arrives at the courtroom with minutes to spare, gives the James family a reassuring smile, and gets down to business. 

* * *

By the time they leave the courtroom, the Jameses are $11 million better off, and it’s already flooding the news. It doesn’t help Aaron James’ emotional state, though, and Matt doesn’t really know if the conversation he’d had with the kid had really helped all that much. 

Karen’s arrival is to be expected, but it doesn’t really alleviate the awkwardness that continues to permeate their interactions. He pauses as he hears her coming, then turns towards her. She still smells of the same perfume – of course she does, it hasn’t really been that long since they last saw each other. 

“Congratulations, Mr Murdock,” she says. 

“Oh. Thank you, Ms Page.” 

Her invitation to lunch is a little stilted, but he accepts. Of course he does, it’s Karen. Their uncomfortable moment is interrupted by the clamouring reporters behind him. He sighs a little internally, then walks into the fray. 

His least favourite part of winning trials is making official statements to the press after. He’s relieved, at least, that the one that matters will be given in a more comfortable setting. It soon becomes clear that his estimate of five minutes to Karen had been a little optimistic – it takes at least fifteen to shake the reporters. He acquiesces to one last hug from Mrs James, pats Aaron’s arm a final time, and heads in Karen’s direction. 

“I know a good diner,” she says. 

“Lead the way,” Matt tells her. 

* * *

They’ve barely sat down and started the small talk when Matt’s phone starts to ring, the automated voice clear in the comparatively quiet diner. 

_Pete. Pete. Pete. Pete. Pete._

“Sorry,” he apologises to Karen immediately, “I need to get this.” 

She gestures as if to say ‘go ahead’, falters as she remembers that Matt’s blind, then fumbles again as she realises that he knows. Then there’s yet another moment of realisation as it hits that, regardless of whether Matt’s weird senses have picked her motions up, she has to keep up appearances. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Matt dives on the phone immediately, pulling it out of his pocket with embarrassing eagerness. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey, Matty,” Frank says back, “You’re all over the news already.” 

“Am I?” 

“Don’t do that, asshole, you know you are.” Frank’s voice holds a smile though, and Matt feels a grin split his own face in response. 

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair. How’s your day going?” 

“Lance and his guys are still fucking morons, but nothing new. And don’t change the subject.” 

“I’m not!” Matt protests, knowing full well that he’s lying and Frank’s about to call him out on it. 

“Liar,” Frank says, predictably, “I might not be hearing your heartbeat jump or whatever the fuck it is you do, but you’re transparent as shit.” 

“Look, I, uh... I can’t really talk right now,” Matt admits reluctantly, “I’m with Karen, she wants a statement.” 

“Does she know it’s me you’re talking to?” It’s not said unpleasantly – it’s just a simple question. It doesn’t stop the pang of guilt that runs through him. 

“Uh, no. No, she doesn’t.” 

“Don’t sound like that, you know I ain’t judging. I’m backing whatever call you make about whatever you want to tell your friends, Matty.” It’s painfully caring, and a year and a half ago Frank would have bitten off his own tongue before sounding quite so soft while speaking to Matt. 

“I know, I just... We’ll talk about it later, yeah?” 

“Sure thing, Red.” 

The old nickname is exactly what he needs to hear to centre him. He takes a deep breath. They don’t usually say the ‘big words’ to each other very often, let alone twice in one day, but he needs it right now. 

“Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Frank’s reply is prompt, and he doesn’t even need to think about it. It’s reassuring, and even makes Matt reassess how little they say it to each other; maybe Frank wouldn’t be opposed if they said it more. He’s pulled out of his reverie by Karen speaking. 

“You’ve got a girlfriend?” She sounds slightly hurt. 

“Uh, boyfriend, actually.” 

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Karen says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were... I just assumed, since...” 

“I’m bisexual,” Matt tells her. Coming out has never been the most comfortable thing for him, but at least he’s not telling her about Daredevil this time. 

“Well, you clearly care about him,” she says, with something in her tone that says she’s.. 

“Stop fishing,” he scolds, but the smile still on his face undermines the severity of his words. 

“Okay, okay,” she concedes, raising her hands in surrender, “I just... You didn’t say anything.” 

“I didn’t say anything to Foggy either, though I don’t know if that helps or makes things worse,” Matt admits. 

“Neither do I,” Karen says, sounding a little sad and a little amused all at once before changing the subject to something equally uncomfortable. “Hey, I... Do you wish you’d kept your secret to yourself?” 

“No,” Matt blurts out immediately, “I needed you to know. I don’t know what I expected, but I... I know I couldn’t lie to you anymore.” 

She sighs. “Thanks, I appreciate that.” There’s a pause, then she asks, “Do you miss it? The suit, the mask...?” 

“No.” It’s said firmly, if not wholly sincerely. “It feels like a chapter of my life that’s closed. Now, I don’t regret it. You know, I just... I regret that it drove some people away.” 

“No, it... Look, it didn’t drive me away. I just... You know, I felt like we should figure ourselves out first or something.” 

“I’m trying,” Matt says a little softly. 

“Does, uh... Does Pete know?” The words seem a bit like they’ve been ripped out of her without her consent, but Matt still can’t help but grin a little at the thought of Frank not knowing. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Pete knows.” 

“You know, as complicated as I feel about all this stuff, I just... I feel like you should know, the NYPD is prevailing. I report on it every day, and crime rate’s down. I really think that Daredevil may have made the city a safer place.” 

“He might have. But right now, the city’s better off without him.” He says it with a chuckle and a flippant gesture, but he can still hear Frank’s voice in his head from well over a year ago. _‘The city needs you, Red, and it needs your special brand of crazy.’_

“Well, it’s better off with Matt Murdock,” Karen declares confidently. And with that, the conversation is back where it’s meant to be – discussing safe, legal work. 

* * *

By the time Matt gets home that evening, it’s dark. Stopping to visit Father Lantom had soothed his soul somewhat, but he still wants to spend time with Frank to soothe his heart. He places his jacket on the coat hooks by the door, then makes his way down to the kitchen, passing where Frank’s put his feet up on the couch, leaning back against the arm with a book in his hands. 

“Sorry I’m late. I stopped by the church,” Matt says, placing his glasses on the kitchen counter. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Matty,” Frank replies. It’s not angry, or even designed to appease; it’s a statement of fact, without so much as a blip in the steady heartbeat. 

Matt’s about to offer to pass Frank a beer, when he twitches at the sounds coming from outside. There are dogs barking, birds fleeing something invisible, and he’s just opening his mouth to comment on it when the ground shakes. As if on autopilot, he closes the fridge, staggering towards Frank. Frank seems to have the same idea, practically tumbling off the couch in an attempt to reach Matt. Soon enough, the tremor stops. Frank’s swearing like a sailor – or a marine, as the case may be – but it only registers dimly. The sounds of the city are speaking with a single voice, a voice of pain and fear. There’s screaming, crying, sirens, and Matt wants so badly to help, to do _something_. 

He’s up on the roof in seconds. Frank lets out a confused “Matt?” before realising what he’s doing and following behind. Matt crouches by the edge, listening to the unending horror of a city in distress. He’s already turned into Frank’s waiting arms, ready to head back inside and leave things be, when he hears the sound of a gun cocking. He freezes. Then he’s off like a shot, leaving Frank on the roof. 

“Fuck,” Frank says, before following as best he can. 

Matt outpaces Frank; he’s spent a lot more time travelling rooftops at speed, for one thing. Frank’s good at moving, at fighting, but this isn’t his usual method of travel, and he’s still clearly a little thrown by the speed at which Matt’s taken off; his guard’s usually down around Matt, which means he doesn’t react as fast as he would any other time. It’s been a long time (a long fucking time) but it’s like riding a bike, and all the training Matt’s still doing with Frank has kept him in good enough condition to cross the rooftops as well as he always has. He can hear Frank falling behind, but he’s still following. He reaches the alley mere seconds before the gunshot rings out. 

Matt doesn’t think about it. He simply flings himself into the conflict, fists flying. By the time it’s finished, he’s horrified at himself. He runs a hand over his face, then over the back of his head. Frank catches up to him just as he starts to walk away. Neither of them seems willing to be the one to start the conversation. Eventually, Frank sighs. 

“You okay, Red?” 

“Not Red,” Matt bites out, “Not right now.” 

“Okay, Matty. Okay.” 

“I... Shit. Shit, God fucking damnit,” Matt hisses. 

He raises his hands, bloodied and bruised, to tug at his hair once more. Frank catches them before he can get there. 

“Hey. Hey, stop that.” 

“You knew.” It’s quiet, but it feels deafening. “You knew I’d fall back to this eventually. You knew I wouldn’t be strong enough.” 

“You’re plenty strong, Matty. Am I gonna pretend I don’t think the city needs you out there? Hell fucking no. That doesn’t mean seeing you this torn up about it feels good.” 

“You managed.” 

“What?” 

“You got past your... Your anger. You took your revenge and you got out, and you moved on.” 

“Matt, I haven’t moved past jack fucking shit. If you weren’t there with me at night, I’d lose my damn mind. I spend my days swinging a hammer at a wall, and I do it real fucking hard. _That’s_ how I get my anger out. You sit behind a desk and box with me twice a week. It’s not the same thing. If I had a reason to be out there, I’d do the job and I’d do it well.” 

“Is that why you want me out there again? To give yourself a reason to do it too?” He knows it’s unfair, but his frustrations with himself are bubbling out and being used against Frank. Frank stiffens. 

“Fuck you, Red. That ain’t fair, and you know damn well that’s not what it is.” There’s cold fury in Frank’s words, and despite the fact that he’s always been who he is, it’s the first time since before the Hand that Frank’s voice has filled Matt’s veins with ice. That, more than anything else, causes his anger to fade away as fast as it arose. 

“You’re right. You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

Frank relaxes in increments. He still doesn’t seem pleased, though, to put it mildly. 

“I’m gonna take a walk. I think you need some space to get your shit together.” 

“You’re coming back, though, right?” It’s needy and selfish, but after everything they’ve been through, he wants to make sure he hasn’t ruined it with his demons. 

Frank lets out a sigh. “Course I’m coming back, Matty, you bastard. And I won’t even be gone more than a few hours.” 

“Okay,” Matt whispers. He takes comfort in the evidence of truth which lies in the beat of Frank’s heart. 

* * *

He heads straight for his first aid kit once he reaches the apartment. His hands are shaking as a result of some combination of adrenaline, stress, and guilt, though, and he can’t even open the wrapping he’s struggling with. He throws the box aside with a yell, then swears at himself. He’s going to have to ask Frank to put everything in the right order so he knows what’s what. Matt can’t believe he’s been such an asshole. Frank’s been nothing less than perfect about this whole thing, and Matt’s thrown it back in his face. He’s apologised, but he still feels shitty. The only saving grace is that he knows that Frank isn’t about to throw all their time together away because of one unpleasant comment: Frank doesn’t connect with people that easily, but once he does, he sticks with them. 

This whole thing has reinforced a point, though. Almost without thinking, Matt heads over to the cupboard with the locked box in it and opens it up. He can sense the suit just lying there, taunting him. Worse than that, he can imagine Frank’s voice as if he’s right there. 

_‘If you want to get back out there, Red, go for it. It’s who you are, it’s a part of you.’_

He slams the lid closed as his phone starts to ring. 

_Foggy. Foggy. Foggy. Foggy._

He grabs the device and answers it, closing the wardrobe doors. “Foggy, hey.” 

“Hi, Matt.” Hearing Foggy’s voice down the phone is grounding, and it reminds him of the reasons he’d left the suit behind him in the first place. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah. I was just wondering if you’d want to meet at Josie’s for a drink? This afternoon?” 

“I... Yeah, yeah. Sounds good. What time?” 

“3?” 

“Okay. I’ll be there.” 

The phone call ends without so much as a goodbye, and Matt’s chest tightens a little. He hasn’t seen Foggy in longer than he’d care to admit, and it’s strange, after how long they’d spent seeing each other day in, day out. He drops the phone onto the coffee table and lets out a groan, dropping down onto the seat with his head in his hands. He’s only been there a moment or two when he hears the door opening, followed by the sound of footsteps and the steady beat of a familiar heart. Matt breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Hi,” Frank says, gruff as ever. 

“Hey.” 

“How’re you doing?” 

“Better. I’m sorry about before.” 

“Yeah. It was shitty.” 

“It was.” 

“Don’t mean I don’t want this anymore, though.” Frank’s firm, and Matt’s heart flutters at the conviction in his voice. 

“Good. Me too.” 

Frank shifts awkwardly on his feet. His hands are jammed in his pockets. It feels a far cry from his usual confident military stance. He taps his foot so discreetly that Matt nearly doesn’t notice, then moves his hands out of his pockets and moves them to a position where he can hug his partner. 

“C’mere.” 

Matt stands and practically falls into his partner’s arms. It’s a relief to know that Frank gets it, gets _him_. He rests his ear against Frank’s chest, letting the beat within flood him with a sense of calm. 

“I’m meeting Foggy for a drink in a couple of hours,” he says, still not moving from the embrace. 

“Yeah?” 

“I was thinking... I thought I’d tell him about you. Maybe not that it’s _you_ , exactly, but that I’m seeing someone. Get him used to the idea.” 

“Sounds good,” Frank says, and despite his truthful insistence that he’ll back whatever Matt wants to tell his friends, there’s a barely detectable note of happiness in his voice that Matt’s made the decision to tell Foggy. 

After the morning they’ve had, Matt’s glad he seems to have made the right decision about this, at least. 

* * *

Josie’s is, as per usual, a shithole. Matt loves it. Having a drink here with Foggy is familiar, and he immediately heads over to where Foggy’s seated at the bar. Nobody cares enough to notice that a blind man has found his friend in the crowd immediately. He slides onto the stool and folds his cane up. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says. 

“It’s only a few minutes, it’s not a problem,” Foggy replies before turning to Josie. “Been a long time, Josie. I can’t tell you how much I miss this place.” 

“Oh, so Mr Uptown misses our humble establishment,” Josie responds with her usual level of snark, although even she can’t mask the smile that follows as she heads off down the bar. 

Matt sighs, reaching for the beer Josie’s given him. He isn’t sure what to say, which is why it’s a relief when Foggy’s the one to start talking. 

“So, how’s work? I heard about that settlement,” he says, “$11 million.” The last part is added with a degree of amazement. Matt gets it; even having been involved in the whole affair, it seems an inordinate amount of money. 

“Yeah.” 

“You sure you want to stay _pro bono_?” Foggy jokes. 

Matt laughs but gives the honest answer. “I’m just happy I could help.” He thanks Josie as she takes the empty bottle and provides him with a new one before he turns the questioning back on Foggy. “How about you? How’s things?” 

“Good. Big office. Far from what we dreamed about doing when we were kids, but at least I get to see Marci a lot. After hours.” 

Foggy gives a funny little head tilt. Matt’s willing to bet he’s doing some sort of indication with his eyebrows too, just to reinforce the innuendo. 

“That’s great, Foggy.” 

“Naked, I mean,” Foggy reiterates. 

Matt can’t help laughing at that. He takes another drink, and the silence stretches just a beat too long to be comfortable. This time, it’s Foggy’s turn to sigh and Matt’s turn to break the silence. 

“Hey, thanks for reaching out. It’s, uh... Been a while, huh?” 

“That it has.” Foggy shifts in his seat and his voice gets just the slightest bit more enthusiastic. “I talked to Karen. She said you guys grabbed coffee. I don’t mean to pry, but where you guys at? Relationship status?” 

Oh God. That’s come up sooner than expected. He and Karen friends, and she’d said they were “figuring themselves out”, but by that point she already knew about Frank – or ‘Pete’, at least. She’d meant platonically, right? Unless she thinks they’re going to get back together, and Frank is just a stopgap. If that’s what she believes, she’s incredibly wrong, but if it’s not, he looks incredibly self-centred to check up on that. Not that that’s what Foggy had asked. Fucking hell. 

“We’re ‘working ourselves out’,” he says eventually, but Foggy can clearly see minor panic on his face. 

“That sounds good, but the way you said it doesn’t.” 

“It’s not... It’s not _bad_ ,” Matt emphasises, “Just... The phrase ‘relationship status’ probably isn’t the best one for the context.” 

“Hey, I’m just checking in,” Foggy says, putting his hands in the air. 

“I was planning to tell you today anyway,” Matt admits, “I’m, uh, with someone. As in, not Karen.” 

“What?” Foggy cries out, drawing a look from Josie as a result of how loud he’s being. He gets himself a little more under control, then says at a normal volume, “You’re seeing someone? Matt, that’s great!” 

“Yeah, he’s... He’s pretty amazing.” Matt’s fully aware of how disgustingly sappy he sounds, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. 

“What’s his name? What’s he like?” Foggy seems to have been completely thrown off the track he was about to go down in terms of discussing Karen. 

“His name’s... Pete,” Matt starts. He wishes he were confident enough to tell Foggy straight out that it’s Frank, but he doesn’t want to push it, especially when they’re in such a public place. “He’s not exactly got the best temperament when you first meet him, and we had our differences. But when we got past that, he’s funny, and surprisingly romantic. He gets me, more than pretty much anyone. I... I really love him, Foggy.” 

“Holy shit.” Foggy sounds a little like he’s been slapped, not hard enough to hurt but still enough to leave him dumbfounded. “You... I haven’t heard you like this about anyone. Like, ever.” _Even Elektra_ , is the unspoken addendum. 

“I think he’s it for me.” He means it, too. 

“I’m happy for you, Matt.” Foggy means it but he sounds a little melancholy, and Matt knows why. It’s because there was a time that Foggy would have known if there was someone new in Matt’s life. Instead, he’s a year behind on his information. Foggy shakes the cloud off and changes the subject. “How you doing after last night?” 

“Uh, yeah, good,” Matt says, reeling ever so slightly from the turn in topic, “It was, uh, crazy.” 

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Foggy replies, a more dispirited tone in his voice, “You don’t have to say it, your knuckles speak volumes.” 

Matt thinks about his attempts at patching up his hands earlier, and his fury at his own fumbling. He thinks of Frank after his return, wiping them carefully with antiseptic wipes. They probably look better than they used to after he went out at night, but he can still feel them smarting ever so slightly even now. Foggy’s disappointment is unbearable but also irritating, and Matt stands and begins to put his coat on. 

“That why you called? To see if I’d done anything stupid?” 

“Nobody’s saying it’s stupid. I know you’re trying.” 

Matt downs a drink. “Earth shook, Foggy. The cops weren’t coming.” 

He turns to leave, but the sharpness in Foggy’s voices makes him pause and face once more in his friend’s direction. “Matt, stop! Whatever you’re going through, I’m not gonna judge. But I do think I can help you through it. I came to offer you something.” There’s a shuffling as Foggy grabs his bag. “These are case files. Stuff I’m too busy to handle right now. Ranging from petty bullshit to life-changingly important.” 

“I don’t need your charity,” Matt counters. He’s a little stung by the idea that Foggy thinks he needs help not going off the rails. He’s sort of right, but that just makes it worse. 

“This isn’t that. It’s outsourcing,” Foggy replies, “Most importantly, it’s the type of stuff you’re doing anyway. Malpractice, workmen’s comp. Good people who need justice. If you takes these, it’ll keep you up-to-your-eyeballs busy. And the next time you’re on the fence about” – he lowers his voice – “stepping out at night... You’ll be too busy being another kind of hero.” 

Matt sits back down. He’s still not exactly _happy_ , but it’s an interesting idea. He’s willing to listen to the end of the spiel, even to take the files. 

“It’s not a solution,” Foggy adds, “Not long-term. But right now... It’s the best I got.” 

“What if it doesn’t work?” Matt asks. 

“Then we tried anyway.” 

“Alright. Thanks, man,” Matt says, clapping Foggy on the arm. 

Silence engulfs them for a moment. Eventually, unable to hold back from at least giving it a quick read, Matt slides one of the folders towards him. Foggy laughs, a little triumphant but mostly genuinely good-humoured. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist helping people,” he teases, “You probably met your Pete getting a cat out of a tree.” 

“Something like that,” Matt says softly, fingers already starting to skim the Braille in front of him. 

“I want to meet him, you know,” Foggy tells him, “If he makes you this happy.” 

“Sure. Some time,” Matt agrees. 

_The real trick_ , he thinks to himself, _will be convincing Foggy not to call the cops_. 

* * *

They part ways not long after, and Matt heads back towards the apartment. He’s desperately hoping to get back to normal as soon as possible, and the cases he’s been given will help with that. Frank takes one look at the files, gives a grunt as he sees how many there are, then turns back to his book. They pass the evening in peace, collapsing into bed early after the mayhem of the previous night. They’re both used to running on very little sleep, but it’s been a while. 

That particular problem gets worse as Matt receives a call in the early hours of the morning. It’s from Foggy, and he sounds stressed. 

“Matt? I need a favour, a huge favour. You know you were taking some of my workload? Well, Jeri Hogarth asked me to keep an eye on a former employee, some troublemaker type or something? She’s just been taken into the station, but I have a big meeting in about” – there’s a pause as he presumably checks the time – “four hours. Can you take this one? Please?” 

“Who is she?” Matt asks groggily, already rolling out of bed. Frank lets out a noise of disapproval as the warmth radiating from his boyfriend pulls away from him. 

“Shit, is that Pete?” Foggy asks. 

“Yeah. It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Matt says, mostly sincerely, “The client?” 

“Her name’s Jessica Jones. She’s probably just a witness, but she’s been through some weird shit,” Foggy tells him, “You’re awesome for doing this, buddy.” 

“Yeah,” Matt mumbles, pulling on a shirt, “I’ve got this, Foggy. Go back to sleep.” 

He hangs up, practically tripping over himself as he finishes getting dressed. Frank sits up in the bed, grabs Matt’s watch off the drawers by the bed, and tosses it in Matt’s direction. Matt grabs it just before it hits him in the face. 

“Are you being helpful, or throwing things at me for waking you up?” he teases, voice still rough with sleep. 

“Both,” Frank grumbles. He sounds pissed off, but that’s not exactly unusual. “What’s happening?” 

“Foggy needed to outsource,” Matt says, remembering his friend’s phrasing from the day before, “Client called Jessica Jones.” 

“Isn’t she the one who was on the news for snapping a guy’s neck last year?” Frank queries. He doesn’t sound that interested, though, still desperate to go back to sleep. 

“Maybe, I don’t know.” 

Frank seems satisfied enough with that answer, saying only, “Comb your fucking hair, you’ve got bedhead,” before lying back down and pulling the covers up. 

Matt does as instructed and bolts from the house. He skims her file on the way and makes it to the station in good time. He’s about to burst into the room he’s directed to after a brief word with the man who claims to be the lead detective on the case, who says that another detective is inside questioning his new client, when he hears the end of a sentence. His new client is talking about this case being “weird shit.” He can’t help it – his interest is piqued. He throws the door open. 

“Jessica Jones? Stop talking. Hi, this is over.” 

“Who the hell are you?” asks the woman he presumed is Jessica Jones. She sounds as angry at the world as Frank usually does. 

“My name is Matthew Murdock,” Matt says, “I’m your attorney.” 

The officer seated with her doesn’t look thrilled at his arrival, but she vacates the room to give him time with Jessica. Matt moves to take his coat off and place it over the back of the chair she’s just left. 

“Are you a public defender?” Jessica asks. She sounds impatient, and Matt keeps his displeasure at that concealed – it’s ridiculously early, he’d had to leave his bed (and, more importantly, Frank) and she just wants out. Then again, he’s had worse clients too. 

“Uh, no.” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“A friend referred me. He works for–” 

“Let me guess,” she interrupts, “Jeri Hogarth.” 

“Right.” 

“I didn’t know she did diversity hires.” 

He can admit that she’s got a very dry sense of humour. There’s something appealing about it, as well as the fact that it’s not the usual discomfort people experience as they try to find the right words. He laughs a little. 

“Ah, I’m independent. I don’t work for her firm.” 

“Well, I’m not paying you.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Oh, ‘cause she’ll foot the bill?” Jessica sounds a little disbelieving. 

“Yeah,” Matt says, “And I’m a Catholic. I have a soft spot for hopeless causes.” He laughs a little at his own shitty joke. It’s not totally a lie, though. Frank’s case had been the most hopeless of all, but he’d insisted on taking it because there was something more there, and look how that had ended up. He adjusts his sunglasses. “That was a bad joke. Sorry.” 

“Barely.” 

“Uh, Miss Jones, may I ask how long you’ve been a PI?” 

“No,” says Jessica flatly. 

Matt feels his eyebrows raise in surprise. He smiles somewhat thinly. “Are you always this rude to people trying to help you?” 

“You know what? I’m gonna find my own lawyer, thanks,” she replies, in lieu of an actual answer. 

“Okay,” Matt says, trying not to feel bitter that he’d come down here for this bullshit but also a little thrown by absolutely everything this woman’s done, “Uh, well, in reality, you don’t need one. After talking to the lead detective outside, it appears that despite the mess you got yourself into, the NYPD doesn’t actually have anything to hold you on, so...” 

“So I can walk?” 

“Mm-hm,” Matt hums an affirmative, “Though your apartment and office are still considered an active crime scene. You’ll also need to make yourself available for follow-up questions, so in the meantime–” 

“Don’t leave town,” she speaks over him, “Yeah, I know the drill.” 

Matt leans forward a little, recalling the contents of the file he’d read on the way down, as well as the comment Frank had made when he’d said Jessica’s name. “Miss Jones, can... May... Uh...” He hesitates. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this. I read your file. I know who you are. What you can do. I know what happened with Kilgrave, so if–” 

“This has nothing to do with that.” _True_ , her heartbeat says. This time, he’s expecting it when she talks over him, but there’s a level of ice in her voice that hadn’t been there before. It seems fair, so he doesn’t comment on it. 

“Okay, great. Then... Look, I’m just saying, legally, if there’s anything, this will stay between us if... This was... There’s anything not, uh, ordinary about this case.” 

“What part of ‘I know the drill’ did you not understand?” she says, voice more venomous than ever, “Nothing happened. I’m good.” 

There’s a long pause. Matt hears in her heart that it’s a lie, but he can’t call her out on it. 

“Great. Then I guess you’re free to go.” 

They both stand, and Jessica grabs her jacket and leaves immediately. Matt takes his time, reaching his hearing out to see where she’s going. She’s already on the phone. 

“Malcolm? Yeah, I just gave my statement. Are you okay? What exactly did you tell them?” 

_Interesting_. He knows his job is done, but there’s something about this case that he just can’t shake. He sighs to himself a little at his own weakness, then grabs his things and follows the sounds of Jessica Jones. 

* * *

One minute Matt’s following Jessica, the next she’s following him. It’s like a very strange game of cat and mouse. He’s loathe to admit it, but he’s actually having a little fun with it, because Jessica’s _good_. She knows he’s there and she keeps trying to turn it around on him. This time, though, it might be working. He ducks off down a side alley, tosses his cane aside, pulls his glasses off, and scales a fire escape, disappearing onto a roof. He sighs, then fiddles with his phone. There’s definitely something more going on here, and for just a moment, he’s tempted to call Frank. Matt puts the thought to the back of his mind; it’s only early afternoon, and Frank’ll still be at work. There’s no point in bothering him, especially with the catharsis Frank gets from the demolition work. Besides, this could all be nothing, just some misunderstanding blown out of all proportion. He isn’t sure he even believes himself, but he perseveres. 

Regardless, Jessica’s case has caught his attention to enough of a degree that he wants to see this through. He removes his hand from his pocket where his fingers are still resting lightly on his phone, then focuses his hearing once again. Shouting, laughter, footsteps, traffic, heartbeat... _Jessica_. 

He moves in the direction of the investigator, heading back down the way he came and grabbing his cane on the way past. He brushes it off absentmindedly, still focused on the woman he’s tailing. He stops outside a building which from the sounds of those entering seem to have something to do with architecture – in fact, it seems to be the company John Raymond had worked for. The problem is that they’ve got some sort of renewable energy source powering the building and it’s throwing some of the words of Jessica’s conversation off. It’s causing a consistent hum which Matt has to strain to hear through. The words he does catch leave him cold. 

“... Most recent work... Hell’s Kitchen... John Raymond...” And finally, most clearly enunciated, “Midland Circle.” 

_Shit_. 

* * *

Predictably, Jessica heads straight to Midland Circle. Matt’s not far behind, but he’s on the phone almost immediately, staying just out of earshot of the woman he’s tailing. There’s no doubt about it – if it’s Midland Circle, this is related to the Hand, and Frank needs to know that Matt’s walking right through the front doors. It’s strange, knowing that he’s telling somebody before he has to. It always used to be that he never divulged more information than absolutely necessary, and that would probably still be the case if Frank hadn’t wrangled his way into Matt’s life, violating his resolution to not get attached in the aftermath of what happened with Elektra. As it is, the two of them have snuck into each other’s hearts, and Frank’ll understand better than almost anyone. There’s an answer within seconds. 

“Hey, Matty.” Frank’s voice is, as usual, something of a grunt, and it’s only because Matt knows his voice so well that he doesn’t immediately assume that Frank’s pissed off. 

“Hey,” Matt replies quietly, “I think I’ve managed to get involved in... Something.” 

“What’s that mean?” Frank asks, immediately alert. 

“I think it’s the Hand,” Matt tells him, still in hushed tones. 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re planning to walk in there, aren’t you.” It’s not a question. 

“Actually, I’m trying to convince someone else not to.” 

“Makes a change.” Frank’s voice softens almost imperceptibly. “You need me?” 

“There’s no need for us both to backslide,” Matt says. 

“Rather backslide than lose you,” Frank counters. 

“I’ll let you know if anything changes,” Matt compromises. 

There’s a pause, then Frank says, “Okay. You better fucking call me as soon as you can.” 

“I will,” Matt promises. He focuses on the sound of Jessica’s movement – she’s slowing down. They’re at Midland Circle. “I have to go.” 

“Kick ass if you gotta, Red,” Frank tells him. Then the line goes dead. 

Matt disregards the revolving door which Jessica’s elected to use. Instead, he heads in through the door beside it. He grabs Jessica’s arm and pulls her to the side. He’s feeling a little guilty for manhandling her, but the situation could get very nasty very quickly. 

“Murdock!” she exclaims. 

“We need to leave now,” Matt tells her. 

“If you grab me like that again, I’ll punch you so hard, you’ll see,” she threatens. Matt’s impressed with the creativity of it, but he can’t get distracted. 

“I’ve been here before.” 

“Why are you following me?” 

“And you’re in serious danger,” he ploughs on, ignoring the question. 

“What kind of lawyer are you?” 

“This case you took, it’s leading you toward something truly sinister.” 

“Okay,” Jessica says, sounding exasperated, “You are the most full of shit lawyer I’ve ever met, and I think we should stop and appreciate the magnitude of that statement.” 

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else.” 

“Let’s talk about it never. Unless you wanna tell me how a blind man moves the way you do.” 

_Fuck_. Time to bullshit. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I have pictures, asshole.” 

Plan B, then. He grabs the camera and slams it against the pillar beside them, dropping the shattered pieces to the ground. 

“What the fuck?!” She’s clearly not happy, but Matt’s immediately distracted by a sound from upstairs. There’s a noise he’s deeply familiar with, even without his relationship with Frank. Suppressed gunshots. Jessica clearly sees his lack of focus on her, because she asks, “What are you doing?” 

“Gunshot,” he tells her. 

“Where?” For the first time since they got here, she’s actually listening to him. 

“In the penthouse.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I just do. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid,” he mutters, grabbing her scarf, “I need that.” 

Then Matt’s off, not taking the time to think himself out of it. He’s heading up the stairwell, leaping over a janitor on the way and moving as fast as he can. He’d take the elevator, but it’s got a camera in it, aside from anything else, and he’s still adjusting Jessica’s scarf over his face. There’s another janitor further up (God, how many do they need?) and he vaults this one’s cart as well before emerging on the penthouse level. Jessica arrives at the same time, exiting the elevator he’d spurned. 

“You look like an asshole,” she says matter-of-factly. 

“It’s your scarf,” he retorts in the same manner. 

Just then, a body slams through the wall, followed by a figure walking out after it. Another man comes tumbling out with his own pursuer who punches him once, then kicks him away. Matt falls into a fighting stance, just in case. 

“Jessica?” 

“Luke.” 

_What the hell?_

“How you been?” asks the one apparently called Luke. 

“Long story,” Jessica says. 

“We have to get out of here,” says the unnamed man urgently. 

“Who’s he?” Jessica demands. 

“Longer story,” Luke says, “Who’s he?” 

“Wait,” Matt says, before Jessica can answer, “There’s someone else coming. Something else.” 

Across the building, he hears a woman’s voice instructing whatever it is that he can sense coming. “You know what to do.” 

As the person – thing? – rounds the corner, Matt can’t help but wish he could see. He needs _information_. “What is it?” 

“Oh, shit,” Jessica says, rather than give an actual answer. 

“Who’s that?” Luke asks. Okay, so it’s a who, not a what. That’s better than nothing. 

“Bad news. We gotta go.” As if summoned by Jessica’s desire to leave, a group rounds the corner behind them blocking the exit. “Uh-oh.” 

* * *

After that, all that Matt’s aware of is the rush of the fight. He punches one of them in the face several times before hurling him off to the side against the other wall. Moments later, the man’s unconscious, but whoever it is that Jessica had dubbed “bad news” is approaching him. He turns and engages. 

Whoever they are, they’re good. They’re stronger than they should be given their body mass, and their sword is making things even more inconvenient for him. The individual’s dodging his kicks, his punches, and only a few attacks land. The only upside is that he’s holding his own. That comes to an end when a blow is landed in the centre of his chest, hurling him backwards with a grunt through a large window into what his senses quickly decide is an office, based on the layout. 

He doesn’t have time to catch his breath, because his opponent is back with a vengeance within moments. The dance resumes, and Matt’s pretty sure he’s at least being annoying about holding them up, because they split their sword in two. Great. Just what he needed. Dual wielding. He dodges and ducks the blades, but a kick lands right where the punch had earlier. Matt goes flying once again, slamming into a shelf and falling to the ground. His opponent moves, breathing heavily, and he freezes. It can’t be. There’s no way it’s – 

“Elektra?” he breathes. He can’t tell if it’s confusion, exhaustion, or both which renders him so quiet. 

Elektra’s movements pause. Now that he’s identified her, he thinks a lot of her moves had been familiar. When did she get so strong? How did this happen? He thinks she’s ceased her attack, until she brandishes her blade and brings it down. 

Fortunately for Matt, that’s the moment the as-yet-unnamed man arrives. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening, but he’s pretty sure one of Elektra’s swords is shattering as the guy punches it. This time it’s Elektra’s turn to get thrown and she smashes through the wall. The man offers him a hand and, after a moment, he grabs it, letting his unexpected ally pull him to his feet. 

“Come on.” 

The man leaves, and Matt follows semi-reluctantly at first. Now that his face is covered and he needs a hasty exit, he’s happy enough to join the group in the elevator. 

“Who are you people?” 

It’s said by the same guy. He’s being far too chatty for Matt to deal with right now. He needs space, he needs to think, he needs _Frank_. Frank would know, Frank saw what happened to Elektra. Elektra... Jesus Christ. This is a nightmare. 

The four of them exit the building at breakneck speed. Somehow, they’re still running as a group, rather than splitting off. Matt’s weirdly grateful – the part of him that itches for the suit needs answers, and he can only even begin to answer them by staying and talking. Of course, he’s also furious at himself, desperate to go home and pretend this never happened. The reason he left this all behind in the first place is to keep the people he cared about safe, and since then he’s picked up another individual he wants to keep alive at all costs. Of course, Frank can take care of himself, but not against the might of the entirety of the Hand. 

“Chinese restaurant,” Luke points out. 

“That’ll do,” Matt agrees. They pile in the door, ignoring the owner’s protestations as Matt adds, “We need to kill the lights.” 

“How do you even know they’re on?” Jessica asks. 

Matt momentarily tunes out the discussion the fourth member of their party is having with the owner, instead focusing on closing the blinds. He moves to allow Jessica to barricade the door, then turns to the restaurant’s manager. 

“Sir, this is for your protection. We need this place to look closed.” 

The response comes in what Matt presumes is Mandarin, and the response the disgruntled man receives is in the same language. Jessica’s expressing her surprise at that, but Matt has other concerns. 

“I still hear neon.” 

“Who hears neon?” Luke mutters. 

Matt busies himself checking the building. Windows, doors, any points of access. He needs to know where they are. Luke and Jessica are gossiping, and he can’t help but wish they’d do something useful instead. 

“Alright,” he says, returning to the group, “Back door’s clear, everything’s locked. I think we’re safe for now.” 

“So were just gonna wait it out here?” Luke asks. 

“You got a better plan?” 

“Is there a plan where I get my scarf back?” Jessica interjects. 

“I just need it till this is over,” Matt tells her, “What, do you two know each other?” 

“Yeah.” It might be the most personal information he’s got out of Jessica so far, but only because that’s a very low bar. 

“How?” 

“We met. We drank. I shot him in the head.” 

Matt can’t help laughing at that. That is... Quite a condensed story. He sort of wants more information now, which is a problem, since it’s how he got into this mess in the first place. 

“Why are you still wearing that thing?” Luke’s the one asking – again – and Matt’s starting to wonder if the guy’s going to question everything he says and does. 

“It’s–” Matt starts, but he’s interrupted by the end of negotiations with the restaurant owner. 

“Okay, he says we can stay.” 

“What did you tell him?” Luke enquires, surprised. Maybe it’s not just Matt, then. 

“Ah, I just gave him my black card, agreed to pay the rent for the next six months,” the guy says, with an awkward little laugh at the end. Who the fuck even is this guy? “Hey, I’m, uh... I’m Danny.” 

“Jessica.” 

“And, uh...” Danny looks at Matt. “You are?” 

“No,” Matt declares to the room at large, “I can’t. I’m not doing this.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Look, whatever happened back there, we did what we had to. We got out alive.” 

“What are you talking about?” Luke says, but Matt just keeps going. 

“The less we know about each other, the better. This is... It’s too much already.” 

“Okay,” Jessica says, reaching for the scarf. Matt shoves her hand away. 

“Don’t –!” 

“Jesus.” She’s clearly unimpressed. 

“There are people I need to protect,” Matt continues. 

“Yeah, you’re not the only one,” Luke counters. 

“And the organisation we just fought are powerful.” Matt feels a little guilty about the number of times he’s talked over people today, but he doesn’t stop. 

“Yeah, who are they?” Jessica asks. 

“They call themselves the Hand,” Danny answers. Matt’s a little surprised that he knows, but he takes it in his stride. 

“What are they really called?” Jessica pushes. 

“No, he’s... He’s right.” 

“You’ve crosses paths with them before?” This time, Danny’s talking directly to Matt. 

“Yeah.” 

“When?” 

Matt hesitates. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Bullshit it doesn’t matter!” Jessica snaps, voice creeping up a little in volume. 

“Yeah, I’m with her,” Luke adds. 

“We need to figure out our next move,” Danny says. 

“No.” Matt laughs incredulously. “There is no ‘next move’.” 

“And there is no ‘we’,” Jessica agrees, not disputing Matt for probably the first time since they met, “They came at us, we fought our way out. Let’s call it professional courtesy. End of story.” 

“Look, it’s not that simple. These people, they’re dangerous,” Danny tries to explain, attempting to sound persuasive. 

“So am I,” Jessica half-spits out, before losing just a little of the harshness as she says, “Now, somebody tell me what I need to know about the Hand, so I can be on my way.” 

God, Matt wants a break. And his bed. He’s distracted by movement from the kitchen and he turns towards it. It’s a member of the wait-staff, emerging with food. 

“What is that?” Luke sounds somewhat incredulous. 

“Oh. Um, as, uh...” Danny stutters, “As part of the deal, he made me order four of everything.” 

“We’re not here to eat!” 

Danny gives what appears to be an apologetic movement of the head before turning to look at the food. “Uh, are those pork?” 

“No,” Matt says, “They’re shrimp.” 

“Ugh,” Danny sighs out, sounding disappointed. 

“Oh, this guy’s got pork,” Matt announces. He can’t believe he’s doing this. 

“Ah, great!” Danny rubs his hands together and walks to the table, followed by the others. 

“God, you’re weird,” Jessica sighs at Matt as she passes him. He rubs the back of his head. He can’t say she’s wrong, but that’s not the point. 

* * *

Explaining the Hand to Jessica and Luke is difficult, not least because everything about the Hand is fucking ridiculous. The weirdest part is when Danny declares himself to be “the Immortal Iron Fist.” Luke’s clearly hears this before, because he lets out a little huff. 

“Come again?” Matt asks. Finally, something he doesn’t know, and it sounds just as batshit crazy as the rest of this. 

“Sworn protector of K’un-Lun,” Danny explains, as if it should be obvious. 

“What are you on, lithium?” Jessica snarks. 

“So, who was the woman with the swords?” Luke queries. 

Matt really, really doesn’t want to talk about Elektra. He’s got avoiding that topic down to an art form, to the extent that he’s never even really talked about her with Frank. Danny sighs. 

“Look, I’m not sure, but I fought her in Cambodia.” 

“Yeah, and she showed up at my doorstep,” Jessica contributes. 

“Wait, she’s the one that came after your client?” 

“Yeah. Why? Do you know her?” 

“N-no,” Matt stammers. He’s so lucky he’s the human lie detector in this room. He’s also lucky Frank isn’t here to call bullshit. 

“Well, she sure knew what she was doing,” Luke states. 

“Yeah, the Hand trains their fighters to be merciless. But whoever she was, man, she was something else,” Danny says. 

Matt wants to scream. “I’m sorry, this is a mistake. I gotta go.” 

“Hey, where?” Luke challenges. 

“I can’t be a part of this.” 

“If you ask me, you already are. We need to put it all on the table.” 

“I don’t know you, man, I don’t owe you any–” 

“And I don’t trust you.” Luke grabs Matt, and it takes everything he has not to lose it right then and there. There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

“You wanna take your hand off my shoulder?” Matt asks, as calmly as he can. 

“Take off the mask,” Luke orders lowly. 

“You’re not gonna like where this is heading,” Matt warns in the same quiet tone. 

“Try me.” 

“Oh, boy,” Jessica groans, “Counsellor, a word?” 

Matt pushes Luke’s hand off and walks to the other side of the restaurant. Jessica follows. He grabs his coat, sliding it on as Jessica starts speaking. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“You’re gonna need another lawyer,” he tells her, ignoring the question. 

“Why did you follow me into the building?” she presses. 

“Miss Jones, lose my card.” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Look, I’ve been down this road before,” he tells her, “I know what we’re up against.” 

Down this road is death. Down this road is Karen being taken hostage. Down this road is Frank sniping from a rooftop. Down this road is Elektra, dead. 

“I know who you are,” Jessica says. 

Matt lets out a strained laugh. “No, you don’t. Trust me.” 

“Yes, I do. You’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Or Devil Boy, or whatever it is you like to be called.” 

_Oh, shit_. Frank’s going to have a field day with this. He can’t say he’s surprised – Jessica’s an intelligent woman – but this is something he really hoped she wouldn’t pick up on. 

“Whatever you’re insinuating,” Matt denies, “I don’t have any clue.” 

“I’m a PI. I put two and two together. Besides, you leaping around the city like a Russian gymnast didn’t exactly help.” 

“You don’t have any proof.” 

“I did. You smashed it.” She still sounds disgruntled, which is probably fair. “I’m not threatening you, I’m just stating the obvious. They saw you fight, how you’re hiding your face. They’re two seconds away from figuring it out themselves.” 

“What do you want from me?” 

“Nothing,” she emphasises, irritated, “And I want zero to do with this ancient organisation. I just want to crack my case. And judging by the way you sprung into action, I think you want the same thing. Your call, Murdock.” 

Matt sighs as she walks off. He hates that his mind’s as good as made up already. Frank’s either going to laugh his ass off or get very pissed. Maybe both. He pulls the scarf off his head and walks over the others. 

“My name is Matthew,” he says, placing the scarf on the table. There’s a moment of silence. He hesitates. Then he adds, “I’m Daredevil.” 

“You’re what?” Luke sounds astonished. 

“Is there a phone round here?” Matt asks, rather than answering that. 

“I saw one behind the desk,” Jessica says, surprisingly helpfully, “You okay with the numbers?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Matt answers heading over to where she’s gesturing. He picks it up, fumbling over the numbers to check which is which. He slides his fingers over the buttons as a final check, then punches in Frank’s number. He’s memorised it by now, just in case, and he doesn’t think now would be a good time to use his own phone. 

“You’re just gonna make a call after that bombshell?” Luke calls across the room. 

“I’ll explain more in a minute,” Matt tells him absently, pressing the call button. It rings until the answering machine picks it up. “It’s me, call me back.” 

He hangs up and waits. It’s not a surprise that this has happened; Frank doesn’t like answering calls from people he doesn’t know, not least because the world thinks he’s dead. Sure enough, there’s a call back within seconds. 

“Why aren’t you calling from your own phone?” 

“We got into a situation.” 

“We?” 

“I found some others doing the same thing i was doing. I, uh... I may have walked in there.” 

“Fuck’s sake, Red. You hurt?” 

“No, but...” He lowers his voice so it’s as quiet as it can be and still be clear over the phone. “There was someone there. Someone who shouldn’t have been. I don’t... I don’t know what to do.” 

“Where are you? I’ll come to you.” 

“It’s not safe,” Matt says immediately. 

“Never stopped me before.” 

“Look, these people I’m with... They’re strong, alright? And they know who I am... Who I was. What I can do. We’ve got this covered for now. I’ll let you know when we’re somewhere secure.” 

“You mean you’re not now? What area are you in? Might still have a safe house round there.” 

“Please,” Matt half-begs, “I just wanted to follow up on earlier, let you know I’m alive. I promise, I’ll tell you more when we’re better situated.” 

“Bullshit, Red,” Frank says, anger starting to fill his voice, “Tell me where the fuck you are.” 

That’s twice in one conversation that Frank’s called him Red. Matt really has slipped back into it, hasn’t he? Usually, now, he’s Matty. But he’s doing things that Daredevil would do, not Matt Murdock the lawyer, and so he’s Red. God, the idea of Frank being here is appealing. Frank’s dealt with the Hand before, too, when he’d helped against Nobu. He sighs, which he seems to be doing a lot today. 

“Okay. Just... You’ll be careful, right? On the way here? And once you arrive?” 

“Who d’you think I am? An amateur?” Frank says. It’s not harsh, but it does make the point he’s trying to make. Matt swallows hard and rattles off the address. “I’ll be there soon.” 

Just like earlier, there’s no farewell before the dial tone sounds. Matt puts down the receiver and returns to the three individuals seated round the table. Danny’s eating everything he can get his hands on whilst Jessica looks on in what Matt would assume, having had more than one conversation with her, is disgust. 

“Who were you talking to?” Luke asks. 

“Someone who’s coming to help,” Matt says. 

“Cut the shit,” Jessica chimes in, “We know who you are and what you do, why can’t you just tell us who it is?” 

“It might not go so well when you hear who it is,” Matt admits, “I’ll give you the other answers I promised, but that one you’ve got to wait for.” 

“Fine,” Jessica grumbles, “Get talking.” 

“I don’t get it,” Luke says immediately, “If you’re Daredevil, why isn’t he on the streets anymore? I heard he just disappeared.” 

“That’s not exactly how it happened.” 

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” Danny sounds genuinely perplexed. “What do you mean, you’re Daredevil?” 

“It’s a long story. One I’d rather not tell,” Matt replies, “More importantly, it’s a secret I keep not just for the sake of protecting myself, but also for the people that I love.” 

“Okay,” Luke accepts, “I get that.” 

“Good.” 

“I don’t,” Danny chips in, still bewildered, “You’re blind.” 

“Yeah, well, sight is overrated.” 

“Look, guys, we need to come up with some kind of plan here.” Luke changes the subject, bringing it back to the matter at hand. 

“The only plan is how do we get these people off our backs, ideally in a way that doesn’t incriminate us?” Jessica responds. 

“Incriminate us? What are you talking about?” Danny says. 

“None of us are on police payroll,” Jessica explains like a kindergarten teacher who hates her student, “What we did back there was trespassing, aggravated assault, and vigilante bullshit.” 

“Guys, there’s one cop I think we can trust. I think we should bring her in.” Luke’s trying to be helpful, but Matt shoots it down immediately. 

“No. You’d be putting her in danger.” _You’re putting Frank in danger_ , says a little voice in his head. He ignores it. 

“As will anyone who goes up against the Hand,” Danny agrees, “And as for doing this any ‘legal’ way... Well, look, you saw what happened when we tried that.” 

“Is that what that was?” 

“It started that way,” Danny defends himself, “I mean, come on, look, I even put on a tie!” 

“I promise you, you cannot fight these people,” Matt says, “Not even with whatever it is your hand can do.” 

“It’s chi.” 

“It’s not,” Jessica says, sounding unconvinced. 

“What I’m saying is, going at them head on, that’ll get you killed,” Matt warns. 

“Only if we do it alone,” Danny replies. The table falls silent. There’s a suggestion in Danny’s voice that Matt really doesn’t like. 

Jessica clearly doesn’t like it either, since she immediately says, “No.” 

“Look, these people took everything from me,” Danny says, “I’m gonna take them down, one way or another.” 

Luke drops his chopsticks in exasperation. “I wanted to help one kid. One family.” 

“I’m the first to admit when I’m in over my head,” Jessica agrees, “and this is way past my threshold.” 

“What are you talking about?” Danny gestures to each of them in turn. “Bulletproof. Blind ninja. Whatever it is you are.” 

“Classy,” Jessica snarks back. 

“I tried being a one-man army and it failed. But this... This feels like something else is at work here. The four of us show up to fight a criminal organisation at the same moment? How obvious does it have to be? This? This cannot be an accident.” 

Matt believes in God, but this feels like a bit of a stretch. “Okay, I know you mean well, but we’re not whatever you think we are. Alright? We’re four very different people, and while we might all have been trying to do some good, we need to be rational about how we proceed.” 

“You’re the one who called someone,” Danny says, but Matt’s not paying attention. There are footsteps entering the building, and whilst they’re familiar, they’re not Frank’s. 

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” 

* * *

Stick’s arrival is just another slap in the face on an already terrible day. 

“This,” Stick says, brandishing a weapon, “Is one shitty excuse for a hideout.” 

Matt sighs. 

“Stick.” 

“Matty.” 

It feels almost wrong for anyone other than Frank to call him that now. Stick had used it first of the two, but Frank’s made it his own. 

“Who the hell are you?” Jessica asks, wary of the stranger approaching. 

“The guy that’s gonna help you save New York,” Stick announces, sheathing his weapon. Melodramatic asshole. 

Things go downhill from there. The real turning point is when Stick tries to tell Jessica what to do. Even before everything that had been in her file that probably wouldn’t have gone down very well, and as it is, she doesn’t have a good history with men making her do things she doesn’t want to. Luke follows her as she leaves, and Matt paces the room. Danny’s rocking his seat onto its back legs. Stick, being Stick, is just stood there. 

“She coming back?” Stick asks eventually. 

“No, she left,” Matt says. 

“Use your powers?” Danny questions. 

“No, I’ve just met her.” 

“How can she not understand how big this is?” Danny sounds a little whiny, but Matt ignores that. 

“Well, I don’t know her too well, but like me, she has a life. No matter how big or small it is, it’s still hers.” 

“After all you’ve been through, Matty, I thought you’d be more open-minded when the time came.” 

“Don’t know about that,” says a voice from across the room, “Figure you’ve given him reason not to be.” 

Matt, Danny, and Stick all turn at the same time to look at the newcomer. Matt can tell that he’s wearing a bulletproof vest, and the number of guns and knives on him would be concerning if Matt hadn’t been around them before. Instead, he just sighs a little. 

“You realise that’s going to draw attention to you, right?” 

“Go big or go home, Red.” 

“At this point, I’ll settle for going home.” 

Matt grins slightly. Frank’s steady heartbeat is already calming his nerves. Danny’s heart rate, on the other hand, has accelerated slightly. 

“Is that... Is that the Punisher?” 

Frank shrugs. “What d’you think?” 

“Holy shit,” Danny says, awed and a little afraid. 

“Hanging out with billionaires, Red? Really? When you said you’d found some people...” Frank trails off. 

“I’m the Immortal Iron Fist,” Danny tells him, apparently attempting to stand up for himself. 

“The fuck is that?” 

“Frank,” Matt says, “Maybe this isn’t the time for that discussion.” 

“Maybe it is. The hell did you get into?” 

“It’s the Hand.” 

“I got that part.” Frank’s voice is much more of the Punisher than it usually is, even though there isn’t any actual fighting happening right now. 

Matt moves over, planning to fill Frank in in private, but Stick grabs his arm before he’s moved more than an inch. “You haven’t got the same excuse as the Iron Fist for being a stupid shit. Why’d you make a call?” 

“Stick,” Matt grits out, “Get off.” 

Frank tenses, ready to move. Matt looks in his direction and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. 

“You forget how to think when you retired? I trained you to fight a war. Instead, you couldn’t even stick at roaming the streets in an outfit.” 

“A war?” Frank asks, grimly quiet. Oh, this is not good. “War ain’t for people who don’t wanna be there. Hell, war ain’t for people who _do_ wanna be there.” 

“And what would you know about war?” Stick replies, turning his sightless eyes towards Frank. 

“Unlike you, I know what it _looks_ like, for a start.” It comes out as a growl. 

The two stare at each other – or, in Stick’s case, in Frank’s general direction – for a few moments. Then Stick lets put something which vaguely resembles an abrasive laugh. “This one’s better than some of the other so-called friends you insist on, Matty.” 

“I’m sure that’d make me feel better, if I wanted your approval,” Matt snaps. 

Danny clears his throat awkwardly. Luke’s return is a relief for everyone, because the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. Unfortunately, he comes bearing news of exactly what Matt had suspected: Jessica’s gone. 

Stick fills them in on all the details they don’t already know, rattling off the names of the members of the Hand. Frank makes disbelieving sounds at inappropriate times from where he’s looming behind Matt like some ominous protector, and any of the respect he’d gained from Stick is clearly dissipating fast. Matt can’t quite bring himself to care. In fact, he’s very much on Frank’s side in all this. The only thing that gets a response that isn’t scepticism and irritation is the mention of Nobu. None of the others are paying attention to him, but Matt notices Frank’s slight stiffening; it’s entirely because everything that Frank knows about the Hand, he knows from Matt, and that means he knows exactly who Nobu is – or was, at least. 

“It’s nothing we can’t handle together,” Danny says, grimly but far too optimistically. 

“That’s great, Stick, but why are you here?” Matt asks, tension apparent in his voice. “What are expecting us to do about it? And don’t bullshit me because I know when you’re lying.” 

“Maybe you should just back off a little bit,” Danny intervenes, annoyance at Matt’s combative tone towards Stick finally creeping through, “In the past few minutes he’s given me more information than I ever got from K’un-Lun.” 

“That’s because he wants something, and because what he wants will put everyone we care about at risk.” 

“Yeah, you’ve said that.” 

“And I’ll keep saying it.” 

“I’ve lost plenty in this war. Don’t talk to me like I’m some kid!” 

“Don’t act like some kid.” 

“What did you just say?” 

Danny leaps to his feet, and Frank steps up beside him. Even without sight, Matt can tell that his presence is menacing. His right hand is resting on one of his sidearms. 

“Reckon you heard him,” Frank says. His tone is clearly threatening. “And he ain’t wrong. You sound like a fucking child.” 

“Why don’t we all calm down?” Luke breaks in. 

“You don’t get second chances with these people, alright?” Matt tells Danny. “if you’re not careful, the next thing you know, you’re – you’re dead. Or worse, you’re holding the people you love most in the world and you get the... You get the privilege of watching them die.” He sighs. “Alright, maybe the city is at stake. Maybe this fight is important. I get that. I’m just saying, imagine knowing for the rest of your life, you only made it worse by getting involved. Jesus.” 

He adds the last word almost to himself, turning and walking away. He stops by the front window, and Frank’s by his side immediately. 

“Red...” 

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be involved in this.” 

“I’m involved in it because I offered, alright?” 

“I just...” 

“You were talking about her. Elektra.” It isn’t a question. 

“She’s alive, Frank,” Matt practically whispers, “But she’s not... She’s not right. She didn’t know me. She... I held her in my arms as she died. You saw it.” 

“Shit, Matty. You always seem to run into the most fucked up situations.” Frank sounds sympathetic, but there’s the faintest hint of something that Matt can’t decipher in his voice. “Did you tell them? Your new buddies?” 

“No. I couldn’t... I can’t. I don’t know how. They think she’s a monster.” 

“We’ll figure something out, then.” It’s surprisingly reassuring, hearing Frank refer to the two of them as a single unit. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Matt admits, “And I know that’s selfish of me. I’ve put you in danger by telling you about any of this, but I’m still just... Glad you came.” 

“For you, Red? Always,” Frank promises. 

He seems to be about to say something else, but he hesitates over it for too long. Stick wanders over to them. 

“You wanna give us a minute?” Stick says to Frank, who bristles. 

“Anything you want to say, he can hear,” Matt replies. He’s not completely sure that’s true, but he wants Frank beside him right now. Stick shrugs, then continues. 

“I’m glad you found others.” 

“Don’t act like this is normal.” 

“Don’t act like I don’t know what’s really going on with you,” Stick bites back, “You crossed paths with her too?” 

“With who?” It’s a terrible attempt at deflection, especially since he’s just been talking about her with Frank. 

“Don’t bullshit me. Elektra.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“I know you, son,” Stick says. Frank’s fingers twitch at the term. Whether it’s because of knowledge of Stick’s role in Matt’s past or something else, Matt can’t tell. “She’s the only reason you’re here.” 

It’s not quite as true as it could be, but it’s not _not_ true, either. 

“She’s alive, Stick.” 

“No, she’s not,” Stick counters, surprisingly gentle in the context of his caustic manner, “She’s something else.” 

“You didn’t mention her in front of them.” 

“Neither did you. Guess she’s our little secret.” Stick looks directly in Frank’s direction as he says it. Frank grits his teeth. 

“I couldn’t hear her heartbeat,” Matt says, both in search of further information from Stick and to head off any conflict brewing between the two. 

“That’s ‘cause the girl I trained, the woman you loved... She ain’t there anymore.” 

“Maybe we can help her.” 

“No, we can’t. When they brought her back, they made her forget.” 

“No. She hesitated. She didn’t kill me. She had... She had the chance.” 

“Don’t try to make sense of this,” Stick orders. 

At the same moment, Frank growls, “What d’you mean, she had the chance?” 

“‘Cause with you or without you,” Stick continues as if Frank hadn’t spoken, “When the time comes... Whatever is living inside the body of Elektra Natchios is gonna have to die.” 

Matt’s about to continue arguing, but he’s thrown off by the screeching of tyres across the street. 

“You hear what I hear?” Stick asks. 

“Someone’s outside,” Matt says. 

* * *

Frank’s the first to respond. “Hey, kid,” he calls back to Danny, “Get the waiters outta here.” 

Danny tenses a little at the term, but immediately does as Frank says. Luke joins them by the window, and Danny follows once the staff are safe. 

“You think it’s them?” Luke asks. 

Matt pulls a face. “It’s hard to tell.” 

“How’d they find us?” 

“It was a matter of time,” Stick says. 

“Didn’t any of you even think about relocating?” Frank sounds unimpressed. “If the base is compromised, you fucking move.” 

Nobody answers. Instead, Luke asks Matt, “Who’s inside?” 

Matt cocks his head. He knows it’s something he does when he’s listening, a subconscious tic, and he’s thrown off for a moment as he remembers Frank mentioning it as ‘fucking ridiculous,’ which in Frank-speak means it’s endearing. He focuses again and hears the cocking on guns. 

"Weapons,” he says, “Couple of guns, fully loaded.” 

“Well, they ain’t the only ones,” Frank mutters. 

“How about the woman with the swords?” 

Matt’s filled with a sudden urge to snap, _“Her name is Elektra,”_ but instead he just listens before saying, “I don’t know. I can’t... I can’t tell.” 

Just then, Stick sniffs from behind them. “Well, I’ll be Goddamned.” 

They turn towards him, nut instead focus on a figure across the room who hadn’t been there minutes ago. Frank raises a gun, and Matt pushes the hand holding it back down. Danny and Luke both move slightly closer to the newcomer, and Stick walks right up to her. Matt stays in the darkness, where his face can’t be seen, and Frank stays by his side. 

“Not yet,” Matt whispers. 

“This wouldn’t be my first choice,” says the woman Matt assumes is Alexandra, “But I am a sucker for fortune cookies. You know I thought it would be a good idea if we all talked this over... Like adults.” 

“What do you want?” Stick asks. He sounds lighthearted enough, but Matt can hear his remaining hand squeeze into a fist once in anger. 

“You’ve surprised me, Stick. You’ve become so resourceful in your old age.” 

Stick sighs a little. “What have you become in yours?” 

“Determined.” 

She turns her attention to Danny. It’s evident that her extended spiel attempting to turn him to her side is going to be unsuccessful from the very beginning, but it does teach them one thing. She doesn’t want Danny dead, which means she needs him. Unfortunately, since this isn’t a movie, she doesn’t tell them all their evil plans regarding what they’ll do with him, even when Stick prompts. 

“Oh, they’re just like you, old man,” Alexandra says eventually, as Danny pulls from her grip, “The only language they speak is violence.” 

Matt only gets a split second’s warning as he hears the scraping of a blade outside. He turns to the door in alarm just as it’s kicked in, grabbing Frank’s wrist and pulling him back as he retreats slowly himself. Now that he knows what he’s looking for, he can tell that it’s Elektra who’s entered, making her way through the restaurant. He loosens his grip on Frank and falls into a fighting stance. Frank flicks the safety off his weapon. Alexandra passes them as she moves out of the way. 

“Go on, my child,” she tells Elektra, “Serve life itself.” 

Stick draws his own blade and everybody else settles into fighting stances. Matt’s attention, though, is once again grabbed by rubber squealing on asphalt. The window shatters into fragments as a car barrels through it, driverless, knocking Elektra to the floor. The heartbeat of the person entering though the gaping hole in the wall is familiar. 

“Who missed me?” says Jessica Jones. “And what the fuck is the Punisher doing here?” 

“So far?” Frank says. “Not much.” 

Then Elektra hurls herself at them. 

* * *

Six against one is a ridiculous fight, and Frank can’t get a good shot anyway. He’s trying to just keep an eye on Matt, but he ends up throwing himself into the fray as Jessica hits the floor. Elektra raises her sword and, unable to make the shot due to the angle, Frank rounds a corner and swipes her legs out from under her. She’s on her feet inordinately fast, already countering hits from Danny and Luke at the same time before kicking Frank’s gun out of his hand. Jessica clambers upright as Danny takes her place on the ground, stomach down. There’s a crash across the room as a man smashes down through the skylight. 

“Who’s this?” Danny questions. He sounds pissed, and Frank figures he kind of deserves that much at this point. 

Matt turns towards the noise and flings a chair at the man as Frank pulls out another of his weapons. Jessica and Luke stick to Elektra, whilst Matt and Danny take the newcomer. Frank elects to go with Luke and Jessica; they might be superpowered, given what he’s seen on the news, but Jessica in particular isn’t the strongest fighter on a technical front. Luke slaps Elektra’s sword away with his bare hands and she retaliates by flinging him across the room and picking it back up. There’s a momentary lapse in the fighting, and Danny takes the opportunity to ask a question. 

“Where’s Alexandra?” 

To Frank, the answer seems pretty fucking obvious. Alexandra’s got the hell out of dodge. 

The interruption of gunfire is unwelcome. Frank can’t say he dislikes the sound per se; when he’s the one causing it, it’s music to his ears. He just doesn’t particularly like being on the receiving end. He dives to the side with Matt as Danny calls out a warning. Luke, however, stays where he is, bullets bouncing off him every which way. 

“That looks fucking useful,” Frank mumbles. Matt lets out a quiet chuckle, which is gratifying despite its brevity. 

“Now it’s a goddamn party,” Stick says. 

“Who are these people?” 

“They want Danny.” 

There’s a single shot from a handgun, and the bullets stop abruptly. It’s promptly followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the ground. 

“We want him alive,” says a voice Frank’s never heard before. 

The brief pause in the assault gives them time to regroup. Frank can’t help rolling his eyes when they end up circling up, back to back. 

“Oh, shit,” Jessica mumbles. 

“Let me fucking guess,” Frank grumbles, “Non-lethal only.” 

“They’re already dead,” Stick tells him, “By all means.” 

“Only good news I’ve heard all evening.” 

“We work together, we walk out of here alive,” Stick advises. 

Matt, being Matt, breaks rank immediately. He throws the Hand member in front of him to the side, following directly behind Elektra. 

“Fuck’s sake, Red!” Frank yells, already raising his gun and taking out the man in front of him with an efficient headshot. 

“No!” Stick shouts at the same time. 

So, he’s agreeing with the old man on something. It was bound to happen eventually. 

Three more shots, three more opponents down. He’s irritated when one of them knocks his weapon aside with a kick. Do these assholes know how to do anything else at all? Frank grabs the next arm to come his way, breaking it with brutal force. He then punches its owner in the face before dropping him to the ground, pulling out his KA-BAR as he does so. 

“Where’s Matt?” Rand cries out. “What’s he thinking?” 

“He’s not!” Stick calls back. “Stay with me!” 

Frank really doesn’t like being told what to do. He swipes at one of the last Hand members standing who doesn’t seem to be in charge before driving the KA-BAR in with ruthless force. He pulls it back out, drops the ground quickly and carefully to retrieve the firearms he’s had taken from him over the course of the evening. Then he turns his focus to the elderly Chinese lady. 

“You wouldn’t hit an old woman, would you, Mr Castle?” she says. 

“Depends on the old woman,” he grunts, before throwing a fist in her direction. She makes a forceful gesture towards him, and he flies back without her ever making any contact. She turns her attention to Danny, leaving Frank sprawled by the wall muttering, “What kinda bullshit is this?” 

He clambers to his feet in time to see Jones deck the lady, who goes flying. He hesitates for a moment, considering getting his own back, but abandons that plan in favour of following the others out the door. 

“Where’s Luke?” Danny asks. 

“They took him!” Jessica sounds surprisingly upset for someone who seems to be filled with nothing but snarky comments and, from the smell of her, alcohol. 

Stick slams the door behind Frank, who tumbled out last. “More coming.” 

“Not for long,” Jessica replies, chucking a dumpster in front of the door. Frank’s impressed despite himself. 

“Hey! Let’s go,” Danny says to Matt, who’s stood looking upset in the middle of the courtyard. 

“Get over here, guys!” Stick orders as he pulls open a manhole cover. “Smells like shit, but it’s our only way out.” 

The group climb into the hole, Frank shooting Matt a half-glare, half-disappointed look which is only to satisfy his own emotional needs, since Matt can’t see it. They travel the sewer in silence, exiting a few blocks away. 

“Where now?” Jessica asks. 

“I know a place,” Danny tells them. 

* * *

When they end up at a dojo, Frank lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Really great plan. Let’s go to a facility open to the public.” 

“Colleen’s in there. We can work out a plan from here,” Danny says. 

“You realise I don’t know who that is, right?” Frank points out. 

It goes ignored as they enter the dojo. Danny goes ahead, greeting whoever’s in there – Colleen, presumably – with relief. Frank pulls Matt aside the second they enter. 

“The fuck were you thinking, huh?” Frank spits. 

“We’re not having this discussion right now, Frank,” Matt snarls back. 

“Oh yeah? You could’ve gotten the lot of us killed! You could’ve gotten _yourself_ killed!” 

“What was the alternative, let you shoot her?” 

“Jesus Christ, Murdock! She’s already dead! You heard the old man!” 

“You’re being –” 

Frank never finds out what he’s being, because Colleen starts talking. 

“What happened?” 

“The Hand attacked us, they took Luke!” Danny hunches at the window, the events of the night already taking an emotional toll. 

“How do you know they didn’t follow you here?” 

Matt pauses, making the small head motions that Frank knows mean he’s using his senses. “We’re clear.” 

“What?” Colleen’s clearly confused. 

“No place we land will stay safe for long,” Stick says. 

“Which is why somewhere like this is a stupid idea,” Frank mumbles. God, he fucking hates teamwork. 

“We can’t keep running forever.” 

“I’m not running, period,” Jessica snaps. 

“My company owns a building not far from here,” Danny says. Frank throws his hands up in exasperation. It’s almost like that’s more like what he’s been suggesting this whole time. 

“We don’t need another hideout, we just need for this to be over.” 

“You’re oversimplifying it,” Matt says. 

“Oh, am I? Or am I the only one of us who isn’t in this for a cheap thrill?” 

“Jessica,” Danny attempts to intervene. 

“And the last time we did have a plan, but this one left us to go fight that chick in the spandex.” 

“Yeah, just like he did in Midland Circle.” 

“I made a mistake, I thought –” Matt cuts off. 

It’s evident that he’s heard the footsteps approaching. The others rush to defensive stances, but Frank remains in his position. He’s not tremendously concerned, since Matt doesn’t seem to be, and even when Frank’s pissed off he trusts Matt’s instincts. In fact, the lawyer’s grinning a little. As the door swings open to reveal Luke, everybody relaxes a little. 

“Luke?” Danny asks, unnecessarily. 

“What happened?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Luke assures them, “Actually, I’m, uh... I’m better than fine. C’mon, I got something to show you.” 

The van he takes them to is shitty, but the contents are enough to have Frank raising his eyebrows. Inside is one of the leaders of the Hand, the one Stick had called Sowande. He’s unconscious, bound and gagged, propped up in a seated position. 

“I got one of theirs,” Luke says smugly. 

“You don’t say,” Jessica replies dryly. 

“We should get him to the building I mentioned,” Danny suggests. 

“Fine,” Matt says, and, with a feeble attempt of humour, he adds, “I don’t think I should drive though.” 

The way he turns his head towards Frank as he makes the joke is him saying sorry. The laugh, which is more than such terrible humour deserves, is Frank’s own apology. 

* * *

Getting Sowande to the building owned by Rand is shockingly easy. The man remains unconscious throughout the journey, and he’s safely situated in a chair in no time. Matt’s finishing off the final knots in the rope when Danny begins to talk. 

“How much longer do you think he’ll be out?” 

“Not much longer,” Jessica predicts. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because this is happening.” 

The force of her punch is formidable. Sowande’s head lolls backwards, then he straightens up with a soft chuckle. Frank already hates this guy. 

“What are you doing in New York?” Danny asks immediately. 

“There’s nothing you can do to make me betray my own.” 

“I’m up for the challenge,” Jessica retorts. She’s really starting to grow on Frank. 

“Don’t bother. The Fingers were cast out of K’un-Lun, which means he trained with the same monks that raised him.” Stick gestures towards Danny. 

“So?” Luke says, voicing the same question Frank has. 

“They put us through brutal trials,” Danny explains. 

“It’s called discipline,” Sowande says. 

“Sounds like it should be called child abuse,” Frank mutters. 

“It means he won’t crack,” Colleen says, “Not by force.” 

“You know nothing of the power of the Hand,” Sowande tells them, “You are mice who fell into a well. Believe me, this will drown you.” 

“What do you want with our city?” Matt asks. 

Sowande scoffs. “Your city? This place belongs to the Hand. It always has.” 

“What do you mean, ‘always’?” 

“I traced it back to 1820,” Jessica replies. 

“That’s all?” 

“Why do you want Danny Rand?” Matt presses. 

“Nothing you can do can make me serve you. Do you understand?” Danny seems to think that this determination alone will be enough. Frank highly doubts it. 

“Do I understand? You are the dumbest Iron Fist yet.” 

Danny leans down. “Tell me what you want with me.” 

“We want the Fist. You are nothing. Danny Rand failed an entire city. The place he was sworn to protect. The same way the unbreakable one let that boy die in a jail cell, afraid and alone. The same way the woman couldn’t save the architect.” 

Jessica turns and walks away from their captive. 

“What’s wrong?” Sowande presses. “Have I gotten in your head the same way he did long ago?” 

Luke has to physically hold Jessica back this time. Frank grits his teeth. He really doesn’t like where this is going, and the man keeps talking. 

“Of course, your failures are not contained to the past few days. Saving your loved ones isn’t always easy. Especially when there are so many people to blame, so many perpetrators on all sides, so many who deserve to be _punished_ for what they have done. It is hard being the one left behind. Losing a wife, a son, a daughter... All of this and still you can lose more.” 

Frank feels his face contort as he starts forwards. “Mention them again, you son of a bitch, I dare you.” Matt’s hand discreetly slides into his, gives a squeeze, then retreats. Frank stops moving towards their captive, but his trigger finger is still twitching. 

“What about the ones you still love?” Their hostage clearly doesn’t know when to shut up. “What will become of them once you are gone? Who else must die because of you?” 

“What are you talking about?” Luke asks. 

“The nurse. The woman on the radio. The man who runs the veterans’ group. They’ll come for them next. How many mice must drown with you?” 

Frank’s blood runs cold. They know about Curt. How the fuck do they know about Curt? Shit, God fucking damn. It’s a relief when Jessica punches the guy in the face, returning him to the depths of unconsciousness with a grunt. 

“He talked too much,” she says simply. 

* * *

The decision to take their loved ones to a place of safety is an obvious one. Matt decides he should talk to Foggy alone, but he and Frank agree to go to Karen and Curtis together. On the way, though, Matt pulls Frank into an alleyway. 

“We haven’t been able to talk since all this started,” Matt starts. 

Frank grunts in response, then decided he should probably say something. “Y’know, Matty, there’s a difference between me thinking it might be good for both you and the city if you get back out there, and you doing dumb shit.” 

“I know.” Matt has the good grace to look ashamed. “I... If you want to stay at the precinct with the others, stay safe, I’ll understand.” _I’d almost prefer it, knowing you’re safe_ , he doesn’t say. 

“I shaved,” Frank says, laughing a little, “Doubt any cop in the city’ll let the Punisher hide out in their precinct, whether or not they’re friends with Luke Cage.” 

Matt raises a hand and runs it over Frank’s clean-shaven face. Then he moves it to the short sides of his hair. Frank lifts his own hand to cup the back of Matt’s neck, and their foreheads gently come to rest against each other. 

“I’d almost forgotten how it felt,” Matt murmurs, “When you don’t have a beard, I mean.” 

They pull back from each other, and Frank sighs. “I leave you alone for one day and you get into this shit.” 

“Frank...” Matt sounds a little lost. “I’m so sorry I pulled you into all this. It was bad enough before, but now that they’ve dragged your friend into it...” 

“Curt won’t go down without a fight,” Frank promises, “Put him in a room with Karen and they can probably somehow get outta anything. Hell, he’ll probably end up trying to take care of everyone else who ends up there. He’s that kinda guy.” 

“I’m looking forward to meeting him. I just wish it wasn’t because he’s under threat.” 

“Honestly, I’m just hoping to see Karen’s face when she works out what’s going on with us.” 

Matt laughs, looking more at ease than he has all day, just for a moment. “You’ll have to describe it to me.” 

“You bet. Karen first?” 

“Karen first,” Matt agrees. 

The journey to the Bulletin offices is short and sweet. Neither of them are surprised that Karen’s the only one still there and working. The remainder of the desks are abandoned, and the lights are off. 

“I’ll hang back,” Frank says, “Let you do the build-up to telling her I’m here.” 

Matt moves towards Karen’s office, flicking a desk lamp on as he hesitates outside the room. The light and the movement both catch her eye and she glances up. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” she replies, sounding a little surprised to see him, “It’s after midnight.” 

“Yeah.” Silence stretches between them, then Matt adds, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” 

“I’m gonna need a little more than that,” Karen presses. 

Matt sighs. “It’s the Hand. They came for you before, Karen, I can’t let that happen again.” 

Karen runs a hand through her hair, dropping her head forward a little. “I don’t believe this.” 

“I know. They’re back in New York, and I –” 

“No, no, it’s not them,” Karen dismisses, “You. This is how you tell me you’re doing it again?” She grabs a small stack of papers from her desk and places them in a tray, standing with one hand on her hip. “‘Cause that’s what you’re saying. You’re going out – as him.” 

“Uh, no, actually,” Matt disagrees, “Uh, well... Not yet.” 

“Alright, but you told me you didn’t miss it –” 

“I know what I said. We don’t have to have this conversation.” 

They’re trying to talk over each other, until Karen eventually bursts out, “Just talk to me. Please, Matt. Just... Just tell me.” 

“I’m doing it again,” Matt says, “Because if I don’t, people will die. Whatever the Hand is up to... New York is in its crosshairs. I have to do this.” 

“I know,” Karen replies softly, “But I don’t. Look, I don’t need your protection, Matt. Whatever it is you’re doing, or Daredevil is doing, I’m not a part of it anymore, so...” 

“That may be the case,” Matt says, “Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter if you’re a part of Daredevil’s world or not, because they may be coming after Matt Murdock’s, too.” 

“I’m sorry, does that mean they know who you are?” 

“Just can’t take any chances.” 

“Matt, that isn’t your call.” She lowers her voice to a whisper to hold back the shouting. 

“Can you please just come with me? Just lay low a couple days, that’s all I’m asking. I’m sorry.” 

Karen sighs. “Are you making Pete go into hiding?” 

“Something like that,” Matt mumbles awkwardly. He turns away uncomfortably, runs a hand over the back of his head, then turns back to her. “Look, Karen... About Pete...” 

“Is this where you tell me you made him up as a cover or something stupid?” she sighs. 

“Uh, not exactly. He’s, um... He’s not actually called Pete.” 

“Why the hell would you lie about your boyfriend’s name?” she exclaims. “Haven’t we had enough secrets?” 

“Hi, Karen.” 

“Jesus,” Karen breathes out. 

“That’s why,” Matt says. 

Frank steps into the room. Karen’s face is possibly the most impressive mix of emotions Frank’s ever seen: she’s shocked, upset, pleased to see Frank, angry, and a little amused all at once. There’s no physical contact between them, but the closeness between Matt and Frank is fairly obvious; they’ve gravitated toward each other without thinking. 

“Jesus,” Karen says again, “Frank, what –? How did –? You’re involved in this? You’re involved _with Matt_?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And this is something that really needs to happen?” The fight’s gone from her voice. “You really need me to go to wherever it is you’re taking me? For my own protection?” 

“Yeah,” Frank answers, treading the line between grimness and softness, “It’s what’s best, Karen.” 

“Okay,” she says in an exhale, then repeats, “Okay.” 

“Thank you.” 

They fill Karen in on where she needs to go and part ways at the door. She gives a weak smile, and before she walks off, she gives out one final parting shot. “You two have to at least tell me everything once this is all over.” 

Matt lets out a little laugh as she walks off. “She’s going to follow up on that, y’know.” 

“Oh, I know,” Frank says ruefully. 

Curtis’ apartment is quiet, but the light’s still on in the bedroom. Matt can hear the grumbling inside as Frank hammers on the door. It takes a minute for Curt to roll out of bed, and Frank’s about to start pounding the door when Matt grabs his wrist loosely. His head is moving as he listens to what’s happening inside. 

“He’s putting his leg on.” 

Matt’s heard enough about Curtis to know that he’s a veteran and an amputee. He also knows that he knows Frank’s seeing someone and even knows Matt’s first name. He doesn’t know anything about Matt’s double life, though. The door swings open, revealing Curtis in his pyjamas. He’s still alert, though, and that combined with what Matt had heard when they arrived suggests that he’d been sat in bed reading. He seems a little grumpy at first, but as soon as he sees Frank he straightens up a bit. 

“Frank, it’s the middle of the night, what–” He cuts himself off as he sees Matt. After a beat, he blinks. “When you said you were seeing a guy called Matt, I didn’t think you meant your lawyer.” 

“Hi,” Matt says, “Can we have a minute of your time?” 

Curtis stands back a little, gesturing at them to come in before realising that Matt’s blind. “Sure, come on in.” 

“Thanks.” 

Once they get inside, Curtis moves towards the kitchen, starting on making coffee. 

“There’s no time for that,” Matt says. 

“How did you – Never mind,” Curt starts, before asking, “What do you mean, there’s no time?” 

“I need you to head to a police station,” Frank grunts. 

“Any police station, or...?” 

“Specific one.” 

“Any particular reason?” 

“Got mixed up in some shit. They’re after people I... Uh... You might be in danger because of it.” 

“People you what, Frank?” Curt’s voice is filled with humour. 

“I ain’t saying it.” 

“Is it people you care about? You care about me, Frank?” There’s a grin graving his face now. 

Frank scowls. “Shut the fuck up.” 

Matt’s looking equally amused. Frank gives him the finger and he bursts out laughing. Curt raises his eyebrows. 

“You’re giving a blind man the finger?” 

“Oh, trust me, he knows.” 

Curtis’ face falls into a more serious set. “What did you mean when you said you got into shit?” 

“Can’t tell you that, Curt. Ain’t safe for you.” 

“But you can make me get out of the house in the middle of the night for it?” 

“Don’t be an asshole.” 

“Seriously, Frank, you know I can take care of myself.” 

“Not this time,” Matt interrupts, “Mr Hoyle, I understand that you’re a capable man. But this... This is something you can’t do alone. Besides, there are others there who don’t have the training you do. They won’t be able to protect themselves, and you can help them if we can’t.” 

“We? With the best will in the world, you’re a lawyer.” 

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve. But I can’t be in that station with the people who matter to me. Even if you won’t go for yourself, or for Frank, I think you’re the kind of person who’ll go to take care of them.” 

“Dirty trick, Matty,” Frank mutters. 

“Don’t complain. He’s going to say yes.” 

“Shit. Fine.” 

* * *

Once Curtis is safely on his way to the station, Matt says, “Can you... Would you fetch the suit for me?” 

“Where are you going?” 

“To check on Stick. He’s a loose cannon, and he’ll do anything if it means he can win this war he’s always on about.” 

“Okay,” Frank agrees. He may not like the old bastard, but he’s pretty sure Stick cares enough about Matt that he won’t turn on him in the brief time it’ll take Frank to get the Daredevil suit. “I’ll bring it to the warehouse.” 

The journey back to the warehouse is mercifully quite short. Matt’s not looking forward to whatever it is that Stick’s going to say to him now that they’re alone, but at least that interaction is going to be over and done with. He raps sharply on the door to alert Stick to his return, and once the old man lets him in, Matt gets the point quickly. 

“We’re getting everyone safe.” 

“Good.” 

“He give you anything yet?” 

“What do you think?” Stick pauses and sniffs the air. “If she’s as sweet as she smells, I get why you’re tore up about this one.” 

“Don’t bring her into this. Besides, you’ve got the wrong idea.” 

“Have I?” 

“Yes.” 

“Unless she’s not the one you’re worried about, of course.” 

“Of course you know,” Matt complains, almost to himself. 

“Maybe you’re the most concerned about that guy you brought to the restaurant, the one who calls you Red.” 

“His name’s Frank. You should probably know it if he’s going to be fighting with us.” 

“At least you’re picked one who can fight, and who’s willing to do what has to be done.” 

“Don’t– That’s not something we talk about.” 

“Still sticking to your stupidly moral guns, eh, Matty?” Stick says, somewhat amused. 

“Shut up, Stick.” 

“Y’know, all this... All these years, this is what I’ve been protecting you from: your two worlds colliding.” 

“If you had it your way, this is what my life would be. Now you’re trying to spin it like you’re protecting me.” 

“Maybe I got soft in my old age.” 

“Doubt it,” Matt retorts instantly. 

“Or maybe I know what I need on the front lines. ‘Cause the Iron Fist can’t lead ‘em like you can.” 

Matt laughs bitterly. “I don’t wanna lead anyone, Stick.” 

“You’ve already got practice. That Frank would follow you into hell if you asked.” 

“You don’t know anything about Frank and I,” Matt bites out. He’s on the defensive from the second that Stick even vaguely implies that that devotion only goes one way. 

“Maybe not, but I do know that for a man who believes in God, you sure like denying He has a plan for you.” 

“Don’t use my faith against me,” Matt near-whispers. 

“And what about this city? The place you can’t live without, the place that made you what you really are.” 

Matt sighs, running a hand across his face. He turns away and begins to head to the door. Even if he didn’t just want to get out of this conversation, he can hear Frank’s footsteps approaching the building, as well as the rustle of a bag containing the Daredevil suit. 

“Where are you going?” Stick asks. 

“Don’t — You don’t get to tell me who I am, alright?” Matt commands, jabbing a finger in Stick’s direction. “Trust me, I know.” 

He strides away towards the door, swinging it open moments before Frank can knock. 

“You look pissed off,” Frank says in lieu of a greeting. 

“Yeah.” Matt doesn’t give any further details. He heads off to one side to change, and Frank strides after him, grabbing his wrist before he can close the door of the room he’s heading into to strip off. 

“Hey, Red. What’s your plan, here? I gotta know so I can make the right plays.” 

There’s an undercurrent of something in Frank’s voice, something that Matt’s only heard a vague approximation of. The last time he heard this from Frank, really... It had been almost two years ago, in a graveyard as Frank sat wounded and leaning against a headstone. It’s missing the grief that he’d heard there, and the strangled happiness that there’d been when he thought about spending time with his family before everything had happened; all that’s left is bleak pain. Frank’s hiding it well, and if Matt hadn’t heard him sound this hurt before, he wouldn’t have been able to place it. As it is, he stops in his tracks, turning back to face Frank as the latter drops the hold on his wrist. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Your girl, Elektra.” 

“She’s not my girl anymore,” Matt corrects without thinking. 

“C’mon, Matty. You might be blind, but I ain’t. Love of your life comes back from the dead, and you get the chance to save her. True love and your saviour complex both have a field day, the end. So what do you need from me?” 

“True lo– Frank.” Matt’s utterly dumbfounded. Has this been in Frank’s head the whole time, ever since Matt mentioned Elektra? “You don’t think– You think I’m–” 

“It’s okay, Matty,” Frank tells him. The resignation in his voice is painful. “You do what you gotta.” 

“I’m not– I’m not leaving you for Elektra! Yes, I loved her, and part of me always will, and if I can save her I’m sure as hell going to! But it’s not meant to cost me you. She was the first person I was ever really in love with, but... I want you to be the last.” Matt had started with something of a shout, but now it’s petered off into low tones. 

“But–” 

“No,” Matt says firmly, “Don’t do that. I love you, Frank. That’s not going to change.” 

Frank continues to look unconvinced. He rubs a hand absently over his hair, feeling the abrupt stop where he still half-expects it to be long. Eventually, he speaks again. “I just... I hear how you say her name.” 

“And do you hear how I say your name?” 

Frank falls silent. Then he says, “Yeah. ‘M sorry, I just... You’re the only good thing I got going for me. I wanna do right by you, and if that means standing by and letting you go... I wanna know.” 

It’s at that moment that a thought occurs to Matt. “You... You’ve stayed involved in all of this, knowing that your life is at risk, and you’ve been thinking the whole time that I’m going to leave you for Elektra at the end of it all? Why would you even do that?” 

“I can’t... I ain’t doing that again. I already lost my whole family. I won’t have you on that list with them ‘cause I ain’t there. I’d rather you walk away from me than I lose you like I lost them.” 

“Jesus, Frank...” Now it’s Matt who sounds a little lost. He hardens his resolve a little: some of what comes next won’t be as reassuring as it could be, but he has to say it. “I can’t guarantee that everyone’s going to walk away from this, myself included. You know war, and that’s what this is. People can die. But after it’s all over, I promise you, I don’t want to be with anyone but you.” 

Hearing the hitch in Frank’s breath is painful. The delighted skipped heartbeat at Matt’s declaration is anything but. Matt wants to provide physical reassurance, a hug or even a kiss, but it doesn’t feel right. Instead, he waits for Frank to move first. It’s not much, just a gentle brush of fingers against his hand, but it’s enough. A misunderstanding that Matt hadn’t even known about has been corrected, and he feels like he can breathe again. How that means Frank feels, he can’t imagine. 

“Okay,” Frank says, voice rough with emotion, “Okay.” 

“I need to change, but I’ll be back,” Matt promises. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Frank tells him. 

From the sound of his voice, Matt thinks that Frank would sit here all night if he had to. 

* * *

Helping Jessica save a radio celebrity is alarming only in how unsurprising it is. Walking into a public space in the suit isn’t exactly what he’s used to, but it’s necessary. He and Jessica both return to the others as soon as Trish is safe, and much as he hates to do it, he’s planning on using some fairly intense tactics to interrogate their unwilling guest. 

“Red,” Frank says to him quietly, “I can do this if–” 

“I’ve done it before,” Matt cuts him off, “And I’ll probably do it again.” 

Frank nods once, then stands aside. The group is spread out round the room, leaving Matt plenty of space to launch the end of his billy club, wrapping the wire around Sowande’s neck. The man chokes, and the clicks of the wire reeling back into the end of the club that Matt’s holding resonates more loudly than expected in the vast space. 

“So cool,” Danny practically whispers. 

“I mean, it’s... It’s kinda cool,” Luke agrees, reluctantly. 

“I’m gonna make this real simple,” Matt says, ignoring both of them, “You’re gonna answer our questions or shit’s gonna get dark in here.” 

“What do they call you?” Sowande’s still aiming for cocky, but it’s a little less effective when he can barely rasp the words out. “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Even if you could kill me, it wouldn’t make a difference. Cut off a finger, you can still use your hand. We will win. We have armies. We have our weapon.” 

“Let’s talk about your weapon,” Matt commands, “What did you do to her? What did you do to Elektra?” 

“Elektra?” 

“Yeah.” He rotates the club in his hand, pulling the wire tighter. “You dug up her grave. And what did you turn her into?” 

“Easy, Red,” Frank murmurs from the side, too quietly for anyone but Matt to hear. 

“The body you knew was merely a vessel, waiting for its purpose. She’s ours now.” 

“If she’s your vessel,” Matt grits out, “Why hasn’t she killed me yet? Twice now, she could’ve taken my life, but she hasn’t. Why do you think that is? Huh? Your weapon is defective.” 

“Then she will be destroyed.” 

Matt tugs the wire even tighter. “Not on my watch.” 

“Hey, stop,” Jessica breaks in, “You can’t undo this.” 

“Admit it,” Matt continues regardless, “Elektra’s still in there. You failed.” 

“You’re the one who failed. Elektra died on a roof in your arms because you couldn’t protect her.” 

Matt pulls the wire and Frank can't take it anymore. 

“Red, don’t!” he snaps. “I’ll do it, if that’s what you really want.” 

Matt lets out a roar of anger, dropping his hold. His leg, previously pushing on the chair in order to provide greater force on the makeshift garrotte, pushes Sowande over backwards to the floor. He takes a few strides, running a hand across his face. 

“Shit,” says Jessica. 

“Is he dead?” Danny asks. He seems to be acting stoic in order to hide how perturbed he really is. 

“Eh, unfortunately, no,” Stick replies, “Passed out.” 

“Shit, Red,” Frank bites out with a scowl, “You remember the ‘one bad day’ theory? Don’t fucking prove me right. The hell are you playing at?” 

“What, because offering to do it for me is better?” Matt retorts. They’ve not fought this much since they began their relationship, and both of them logically know it’s a result of the stress and severity of the situation; it’s not a reflection on their feelings for each other. It doesn’t mean it’s not a little painful on both ends. 

“It’s a damn sight better than you cutting the fucker’s head off with a wire!” 

“Standing aside and telling you explicitly to do it makes it just as much my fault!” 

“I kill people,” Frank growls, “It’s what I do, and I’m good at it. You don’t.” 

“Yeah, you kill people. Do you know how much work I did to come to terms with that? Maybe it changed my mind!” 

“But it didn’t.” Frank’s being annoyingly perceptive. “You’d still rather die than take a life even in self-defence, so don’t let that asshole over there convince you that ain’t the case over a moment of getting pissed off.” 

“You’re seriously doing this now?” Luke enquires incredulously. “What the hell was all that about?” 

“I think it’s time to tell them the truth, kid,” Stick suggests. 

The others turn to his in unison. Matt sighs quietly, removing his gloves. He turns his head briefly towards Frank, who gives a nearly imperceptible shrug. Facing away from the group feels like the only way to give himself any emotional protection, even though he can’t see the looks on their faces regardless, so he begins walking slowly away from them. 

“I know the Black Sky,” Matt admits, “I’ve been trying to get through to her since I realised it was her.” 

There’s an immediate outcry. 

“I was willing to work with you,” Danny accuses, “But how can I trust you?” 

“Her name is Elektra,” Matt begins, “She was raised –” He gestures are Stick “– by him. Trained to fight the Hand. Which she did, with me. Until they convinced themselves she could serve another purpose, so they killed her.” 

“She looked pretty alive back there.” Jessica looks distinctly unimpressed with the whole story. 

“I know, but I was there when they...” Matt sighs. “I was holding her when she died.” 

“Elektra died,” Stick corrects, “That thing we’ve been fighting is something else.” 

“She was resurrected,” Danny realises. 

“Right,” Matt agrees. 

“How come you didn’t tell us?” 

“Wh– Wait a minute,” Luke chips in, “What do you mean, ‘resurrected’?” 

“His ex-girlfriend,” Stick says, “Now he thinks he can save her.” 

“That’s why you nearly got us killed?” Luke exclaims, his voice climbing in volume. 

“When I said her name, she recognised it,” Matt insists, “She knew me, alright? I think whatever they did when they resurrected her– I think I can get through to her.” 

“Okay, to be clear,” Jessica reiterates, “We’ve now used the word ‘resurrected’ three times.” 

“It’s what they do.” Stick waves her incredulity off. 

“We agreed to put everything on the table, Matt,” Danny says. 

“Don’t see you doing a show and tell with your trauma, kid,” Frank snarls. 

“If we’re gonna defeat the Hand,” Stick continues, “We gotta take her out.” 

“No, Stick, I won’t allow it,” Matt counters. 

“Do you know how hard this is for us to believe?” Luke sounds like he’s working his way towards fury. 

“If it helps,” Frank says, “I’d’ve thought it was bullshit too if I hadn’t been there when she died.” 

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, at the end of the day... Whatever she is, she’s a problem.” 

“Lying is a problem,” Jessica snarks. 

“I didn’t wanna lie,” Matt says, “I was trying to protect her.” 

“Looks to me like it wasn’t lying,” Frank interrupts casually, “So much as not being forthcoming with information. If you wanna get into details.” 

“Whatever it was,” Luke says, “Right now, the people I care about are held up in a precinct because you got me protecting some woman that you used to know.” 

At that moment, Frank tunes out, because Sowande’s moving. He’s somehow escaped the bonds holding him to the chair, and he’s approaching Danny from behind. _Fuck_. Frank pulls out the only gun still on his person – the rest are with his bulletproof vest over in the corner of the room – and raises it. Unfortunately, Danny throws himself into a short-lives fight, and the movement prevents Frank getting a good shot. Sowande grabs Danny and hold him in front of himself as a human shield, holding a makeshift shiv to his throat. The others turn to see the situation, all looking alarmed. 

“Don’t move,” Sowande warns, “Let’s not kid each other. This is personal for every one of us. But now I have the Iron Fist, the key to what the Hand seeks. The key to life, to our salvation. The war–” 

A shot echoes through the room. Sowande topples backwards, arm falling limply away from Danny’s throat, a hole directly in the centre of his forehead. Frank stands across the room, gun still raised. Stick has his blade out and looks slightly put out that he didn’t get to be the one to kill the man now leaking blood slowly onto the floor. 

“Jesus,” Jessica says, a little shaken. 

“You killed him.” Danny sounds almost more disturbed by that than the fact that he was being used as a meat shield. 

“You’re welcome,” Frank replies sarcastically, “Anyway, if I hadn’t, the old man would’ve.” 

“You didn’t have to kill him,” Matt says, but it’s not as upset as it would have been when they first met; instead it’s more of a mild reprimand. 

“C’mon, Matty,” Frank says, “You know damn well it was the only way he was letting Rand go.” 

“They could’ve stopped him,” Danny says. 

“Christ, they’re all like you,” Frank mumbles in Matt’s direction. 

“Well, we got our answer,” Stick says, “He’s what they’ve been after all along.” He points to Danny with his weapon. 

“Yeah, well, we knew that,” Luke points out. 

“We didn’t know the Iron Fist was the key to what the Hand seeks. The word isn’t accidental.” 

“You think he’s a key? To what, their survival?” Matt asks. 

“A key implies a lock.” 

“I assumed it was a metaphor,” Jessica says. 

“It’s not.” 

“So you literally think Danny opens something?” 

Stick nods. “And that something is worth dying for.” 

“I’m a weapon. I’m not a key,” Danny argues. 

“That you know of.” 

“What could I possibly open?” 

“Anyone else feel like the obvious answer is a door?” Frank mutters. 

“You tell me,” Stick answers Danny, ignoring Frank completely. Frank’s starting to get depressing used to that. “Must be why they haven’t killed you.” 

“They haven’t killed me because they want me on their side.” 

“Doubt it,” Frank says, louder this time, “Ain’t like they’ve got a shortage of weird powers. That Gao lady or whatever she’s called threw me across the room without even touching me.” 

“He’s right,” Stick agrees unexpectedly, “The Iron Fist’s chi is a weapon. That’s true. But I’ve heard stories about it being used for more. To seal things shut, or opening them again.” 

“So the Hand is in New York because he gives them access or opens something up?” Luke checks. 

“Come on, guys,” Danny laughs weakly, “That’s insane.” 

“Your hand glows, dumbass,” Frank grunts, “Get a bit of fucking perspective.” 

“Well, it doesn’t matter if you think it’s true or not,” Matt points out reasonably, “It’s something they believe is true.” 

“He was a member of the Hand, an organisation formed by lying psychopaths,” argues Danny, “You can’t trust a word he said.” 

“I understand that, Danny,” Matt says placatingly, “But the way I see it, we only have one move.” 

“Woah, what do you mean?” Danny sounds wary now. Frank feels pretty damn apprehensive too, given the way Luke’s nodding thoughtfully. 

“To keep the Iron Fist as far away from them as possible.” Stick’s voiced the plan, and it’s exactly as stupid as Frank had thought. 

“It sounds crazy, but I don’t think we have any other way,” Luke agrees. 

“I dedicated my life to this fight,” Danny says, anger bubbling under the surface of his attempt at calmness, “You need me. We all need each other.” The others look unmoved. _This_ , Frank thinks to himself, _is a goddamn shitshow_. “This is exactly how they work! They divide us, they get into our heads, they weaken us. They make you question the people you trust.” 

“Danny, just take a deep breath and calm down,” Luke tells him. 

“Stop telling me to calm down, Luke! This is what they want! They want you to be distracted, they – they want you to turn on me!” 

“Sowande wasn’t lying,” Matt says. 

“And how do you know?” 

“His heartbeat didn’t waver. Not for a second.” 

“And where was his heartbeat when he came up behind me?” Danny scowls. “It’s the Hand. You know how they can operate.” 

“And now we know what they need. It’s you, kid,” Stick says. 

“Stick, you’re falling for their trap.” 

“If Alexandra gets a hold of you, the war’s lost. I can’t allow that.” The movement of Stick’s blade is decidedly threatening. 

“Listen, Stick, maybe we should just... Let him lay low, or just... Maybe we should just hide him.” Luke may not be keen on Danny being out there, but he definitely doesn’t want him dead. 

“We’re running out of time! They’re hunting our friends, our families, and they’re not gonna stop there. You heard what he said. This ends with New York in ruins. They want me on the side-lines ‘cause I’m the only one who can destruct them.” He pauses, looking for support from one of the two people in the room who’s said nothing so far. “Jess?” 

She hesitates, wavering momentarily, then asks, “How do you suggest we hide him?” 

Frank rolls his eyes. This is the dumbest plan he’s ever heard. He lets out a loud sigh, causing everybody to turn in his direction. They all seem convinced he’s going to side with the majority, which is probably why Danny looks ready to deck him. 

“Far be it for me to have an opinion, but this is fucking stupid.” 

“What?” Luke asks, as if unsure he’s heard correctly. 

“I can’t tell you quite how much I hate to say this, but the kid’s right,” Frank reiterates. 

“Frank, what are you–” Matt starts. 

“You realise that this means he actually has an advantage in a fight? Unlike the rest of us, they’re not trying to kill him. He can keep getting back up. They think he unlocks something? We take them off the home turf, fight them away from wherever it is they want him, whatever it is he’s supposed to unlock. We already know that they’ll find us wherever we are. I mean, fuck, they found him in a fucking Chinese restaurant.” Frank’s words come to a halt as he realises he’s growing increasingly impassioned, and his volume is rising in tandem. 

“It’s too big a risk,” Stick says. Frank really hates that old man. 

“No, it’s too big a risk to hold him against his will. You’d have to tie him up to keep him going anywhere, and then he can’t defend himself,” Frank argues, before appealing directly to Matt, “You ain’t thinking straight, Matty. You still care about Elektra, and it’s clouding your judgement.” 

“It’s not like that, Frank, and you know it.” 

“No, I know it’s not that you’re still in love with her. Doesn’t mean you can’t still be thrown off by caring.” 

Matt sighs, and Frank knows he’s got his attention. Danny still looks like he’s been slapped in the face, given how shocked he is that Frank, of all people, is on his side. Jessica, who’d been the least convinced by the original plan, is clearly listening to the logic of Frank’s argument. Only Luke and Stick remain uncertain. 

“What would you suggest we do, then? We don’t know where they need him,” Jessica says. It’s surprisingly lacking in combativeness, which is how Frank knows he’s got her hooked. She may have been shaken by him shooting Sowande, but she also clearly wants to avoid locking Danny away. 

“Midland Circle,” Matt says unexpectedly, “That’s their base of operations, and I’m willing to bet there’s a reason for that. Whatever they want Danny for... It’s there.” 

“What’s there?” Even Luke seems to be entertaining the idea of not keeping Danny out of the fight entirely, now. 

“The hole.” Stick answering takes everyone by surprise. He still clearly doesn’t agree, but he’s at least participating in the conversation. “Did you ever go back, Matty?” 

“Go back?” Jessica asks. “Wait, you’ve been there before? And this hasn’t come up?” She sounds accusatory. 

“It didn’t occur to me,” Matt says honestly, ignoring the scoff Jessica gives in response, “There’s a hole under the building, hundreds of feet deep. I kept tabs on it, but I lost the sense of it after the building was completed.” 

“So this just slipped your mind?” Luke questions coldly. 

“I... I was there with Elektra,” Matt answers, like it explains everything. It sort of does. 

“So you’re still protecting your girlfriend,” Jessica says coldly. 

“Don’t call her that,” Matt retorts. 

“Jesus! So now we can’t even mention her? That could be difficult, Murdock.” 

“Of course you can mention her. But she’s not my girlfriend.” 

“Whatever,” comes the bitter reply, “But the next time you conveniently forget shit that we need to know, you’ll hurt for it.” 

Frank feels his fists clench in anger. Then, slowly, methodically, he loosens the fingers again one at a time. This isn’t the fight to start, and all the practice he’s gained at the construction site ignoring his co-workers has at least proven that Lance is at least good for _something_. Beside him, Matt sighs. 

“Fine. The point is, as long as we keep Danny away from Midland Circle, he’s probably fine to be out there. Danny? If we do it this way, can you stick to that?” 

“Yeah,” Danny agrees, clearly relieved that he still gets to play his role, and accepting of the compromise, “As long as you don’t leave me out of the main fight and let me do what I’m destined to do.” 

Stick scowls. “This is the wrong call.” 

“Actually, I don’t think it is.” Matt sounds firm in his decision, and his next words fill his boyfriend with warmth. “Frank’s right, this is the right choice. We need everyone, and it’s a better strategic decision.” 

Frank can’t help but recall the last time he’d disagreed with the person in charge, the shouting which had ensued, the deprecating declaration naming him “the war whisperer.” He far prefers Matt’s response. The memory of Agent Orange’s operation sends a discrete shiver through him, and Matt looks his way questioningly. Frank shakes his head once. 

“So where do we go from here?” Danny asks. “You can’t exactly just walk back into Midland Circle.” 

“The architect. My client’s husband, the one your girlfriend–” She cuts herself off with a roll of her eyes at Matt’s expression “– the one Elektra tried to kill. He designed the place.” 

“You think he knows how Danny ties into this?” Matt enquires. 

“It’s worth a shot.” 

“Well, we can’t all go,” Danny points out, “It’d look weird.” 

“And I’m sure you’d know all about that,” Jessica mumbles. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Never mind.” 

“Well, Frank definitely can’t go,” Luke says, “Since he’s a supposedly dead killer.” 

“Danny can’t either,” Jessica adds, “It’s weird if I show up on a doorstep with a billionaire.” 

“Stick’s terrible with people,” Matt volunteers. Frank bites back a laugh. 

“Two seems like the best number for the job, and it makes more sense for Jess to show up with a lawyer than with me.” Luke makes the final elimination on the list of potential visitors to John Raymond’s house. 

“Everyone who’s staying behind should relocate,” Frank suggests. 

“What?” 

“The Hand’ll find us if we stay,” he points out, “I’ve got a safe house a couple dozen blocks over.” 

“Okay, then,” Matt says, stepping instinctively into the leadership role he’d denied when talking to Stick earlier, “Jessica and I will go to the architect’s house. Everybody else, find a way of dealing with the, uh, the body, and then head to Frank’s safe house. We’ll meet you there when we’re done.” 

Behind them, there’s a fairly unpleasant sound. They all turn to see what it is. Stick’s sliced off Sowande’s head, and Frank raises an eyebrow. 

“Even I think that’s overkill, man,” he says, surprisingly casually. 

“Only way to make sure he stays dead,” Stick explains. 

Oh, yeah. Gotta prevent the inevitable resurrection. Frank can’t believe this is his life now. 

* * *

Once Matt and Jessica are gone, Stick’s dealt with the body in ways Frank doesn’t think anyone really wants to think about, and they’ve all moved to the safe house, Frank moves away from the others and begins examining his guns. He knows they’re in perfect condition, but it’s a soothing habit for him, and he welcomes the distraction since he can’t help worrying about Matt. When he’d encouraged his boyfriend to go back out at night, he hadn’t considered just how concerned he might end up being. Granted, he knows Matt can take care of himself, and he only actually feels this way because it’s an international criminal organisation with the power to resurrect people attacking them by sending Matt’s brainwashed and crazy dead girlfriend after them, but still. He pauses in his cleaning for a moment, briefly considers the absurdity of the sentence, then puts that can of worms aside. He sort of signed up for crazy the moment he decided to date the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Across the room, Stick and Luke are talking, but Danny isn’t with them. Instead, a shadow fall over Frank’s hands, blocking the light where he’s trying to investigate one of his smaller weapons. Frank looks up, mildly irritated. 

“I wanted to say thanks, for what you did earlier.” Danny sounds sincere, so Frank decides not to punch him just yet. 

“Nothing to thank me for.” 

“I don’t think things would have gone this way if you hadn’t intervened,” Danny perseveres. 

“Probably not.” 

“Why did you do it? I didn’t think you liked me.” 

Frank sighs, putting his gun down carefully and looking to the right momentarily before returning his gaze to Danny. “I don’t. Or at least, what I’ve seen so far hasn’t exactly impressed. Doesn’t mean I thought that was the right call for anyone.” 

Danny sits, uninvited, on a seat opposite Frank. He doesn’t seem to be about to move, but he’s still in the way of the light, so Frank can’t go back to what he was doing. Instead, he simply stretches his legs out and waits for Danny to speak again. 

“You’re really protective of Matt,” the kid says finally. 

“And?” 

“And I wondered why.” Jesus, he doesn’t know when to give up, does he? There’s something about Danny which makes Frank imagine a much more naive version of Matt, something which reminds him of Matt chained to a chimney and still insisting that there’s redemption for everyone, and it’s probably that, more than anything, which makes Frank answer. 

“If you’re too busy wondering, it means you’re not noticing. It’s not like we’re trying to fly under the radar with it.” Danny still looks like a moron trying to figure it out, so Frank takes a little pity on him by adding, “There’s a reason he keeps insisting Elektra’s not his girlfriend, and no matter what Jones seems to think, it ain’t denial.” 

Danny’s eyes widen. “Wait, you’re dating?” 

“That a problem?” 

“No, of course not! I’m just... Surprised. Daredevil doesn’t kill, but you...” 

“Kill a lot. Trust me, we’ve been through it.” 

“Y’know, when you first showed up, I wasn’t sure about you.” 

“And now you won’t leave me the fuck alone.” He means it to come out much more seriously than it does. Instead, it feels like a token effort. It’s probably because, annoying though Danny is, his attempt to be friends is weirdly gratifying. 

“But if Matt trusts you, I do too. And no matter how I feel about you killing people, you’re skilled.” 

“If it makes you feel better, this lot are already dead.” 

“It does, actually,” Danny admits. Then he casts an eye over the guns at Frank’s feet. “You’ve got a lot of those.” 

“Yeah, and I already almost lost two at that damned Chinese restaurant.” 

“Will you show me?” 

It seems more like Danny wants to interact with him than that he wants to learn about guns, but Frank shows him anyway. Over the course of this one short conversation, Danny’s grown on him a bit, and Frank’s willing to play nice if it’ll keep him in good stead with the people he’s got to work with to save the city. He strongly denies to himself that it’s got anything to do with the fact that he might actually like any of these people. 

* * *

Back at his apartment, Matt peels off the Daredevil suit. He didn’t particularly want to change into the same thing he wore yesterday, so now he’s slipping into some more normal clothing to visit Jessica’s client’s house. He’s aware of Jessica’s examination of the place, but he ignores it, waiting for her to say something. He knows it’s a lot more homely than it used to be; Matt never put much stock in decorating for obvious reasons, and keeping things tidy sort of started to fall by the wayside at times. Frank, on the other hand, can see everything. He’s straightened the pictures on Matt’s walls, added one or two in places he insisted looked bare, and a few of his own items are littered around. The most important one is one which Jessica won’t be able to see without coming closer to where Matt’s changing. It’s a picture of Frank’s family, framed and positioned on his side of the bed. He’d asked Matt if he’d mind, and the answer had, of course, been that he didn’t mind at all. He’d been able to sense the salt water that was just a little more prominent in Frank’s eyes at that, but he’d pretended he hadn’t. 

“So you wanna tell me how a _pro bono_ lawyer can afford a loft like this is New York City?” Jessica asks. 

“You can’t tell now, but there’s a neon billboard across the street. Keeps most people up at night. Not me.” 

“Got it,” she says. 

It reminds Matt that Frank puts up with it every night, though. Maybe he can get some blackout blinds for the floor-to-ceiling windows? He should do something, at least. He’s surprised Frank hasn’t complained once over the course of the year they’ve been together, but Frank tends not to complain about things that really are bothering him, instead only mentioning things he doesn’t really mind until Matt asks him directly or they start bickering about it. He shakes off the serious thoughts and turns to humour. 

“Plus, I occasionally help the landlord out. I’m not proud of it, but I put on the suit and rough up people late on rent.” 

“I hope that’s a joke.” 

He laughs. “Sorry about the mess. We never really cleaned up after the tremor, and the only assurance I’ve got for you is that it’d be much worse if it was just me here.” 

Jessica sighs. “It’s alright. You should see my place. So it isn’t just you living here?” 

“Uh, no,” Matt answers a little awkwardly. 

“Don’t suppose I’ve met the other person who lives here?” 

Like he’s noticed before, she’s a smart woman. “I take it that means you figured it out?” 

“I was a little thrown off by the dead ex-girlfriend, then realised it made no difference. The guy looks at you like he’d... I mean, kill for you probably isn’t the right phrase, since I’m pretty sure he’d kill for a lot of different reasons, but you know what I mean. And you’re not exactly subtle, either.” Her persistent devil-may-care attitude makes him feel a lot better about the others in the group knowing. Obviously, he and Frank haven’t exactly been hiding it, but still. “Anyway, it was clear that it’s at least somebody sighted. There’s a print copy of _The Art Of War_ on the coffee table, and I doubt even your freaky senses are good enough for you to choose that over a Braille copy for some reason, and there’s an empty ammo box by the trunk with your weird-ass Hallowe’en costume in.” 

“Fair enough,” Matt concedes. 

“So why‘s it such a mess, aside from the tremor? You work from home?” 

“Unless I have meetings, then I go out so nobody sees Frank. I used to have a partner. We had an office.” 

“And?” 

“Now we don’t. You ready?” 

“Yeah,” she says. 

It’s at that moment that he’s thrown off by the positioning of his Bible. It’s been abandoned on the floor, and he picks it up and flicks through it. The card from Elektra’s funeral is gone. He doesn’t remember moving the book, and he knows that Frank wouldn’t remove the card, at least. That makes it a little worrying. He’ll stop and think on that more in a little while, though. First, they need to speak to the Raymonds. 

“Everything alright?” Jessica asks. 

“Yeah. Uh, yeah,” he answers distractedly, placing the Bible back where it’s meant to be and closing the box, “Let’s go.” 

* * *

Blueprints in a piano is a new one, Matt has to admit. He and Jessica leave the architect’s house with papers in hand, and they’ve implied something interesting: Raymond was planning to blow the building up, not for the sole purpose of destroying the building, but to collapse it onto whatever’s in the hole beneath. Matt’s glad they’ve discovered the reality of Raymond’s stockpile of explosives, but as they head towards the safe house the others have moved to, he can’t help but think about what Jessica has said about his father. 

He debates it for a moment, then says, “Jessica... How’d you know?” 

“About what?” 

A car horn sounds nearby as Matt sighs. “About my dad.” 

“Crime-fighting blind lawyer, I figured there‘d gotta be a good story there.” 

“Or a shitty one.” 

“You took my case, I took yours,” Jessica says, “I just think... We’ll work better together if we trust each other, don’t you?” 

“That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Matt grins. 

“Yeah, don’t get used to it.” 

“Speaking of trust...” 

“Oh, God.” 

“Look, I just wondered... Frank...” 

“You wanna know if I trust him?” 

“Yeah,” Matt admits, “I guess you could say I’m invested in a positive answer.” 

“I trust him enough. I pretty sure that in a fight, though? He’d throw us all under a bus to save you. He’s a better guy than people think, though, and that’ll do for now.” 

“Okay.” Matt’s unwillingly delighted to hear her response. She’s got Frank sussed as well as anyone could after only a day, and she’s seen a tiny part of what it is about Frank that started Matt down the path that led to him being this deeply in love with him. He’s sidetracked from such positive thoughts by a noise at the building that the others have, thankfully, vacated. The movements are barely audible, and it’s only because they’re passing comparatively close by and he’s paying attention that he can hear it. “There’s someone at the building we were in earlier. They’ve just gone inside.” 

“It’s a good thing the others left, then,” Jessica says even more grimly than usual, “C’mon, Murdock. Move it.” 

They make it to the safe house with impressive haste after that. Both of them are visibly relieved to see that all of their companions are safe inside, but they appear to have walked into an argument. 

“Hey, what the hell’s going on here?” 

“Stick’s trying to kill Danny,” Luke explains. 

Sure enough, Stick’s facing off against the other three men. It’s somewhat surprising to both new parties that the person blocking Danny from Stick with his whole body is Frank, who looks ready to commit a murder of his own. 

“What the hell, Stick,” Matt says flatly. It’s not a question, which Matt notes absently is a depressing indicator of what kind of person Stick is. 

“We can’t let them get him,” Stick replies, “So we take him off the board.” 

“We’re not killing Danny!” 

“And when they destroy the city because none of you will do what needs to be done?” 

“I’ll die before I let that happen,” Matt retorts coldly. 

“You just might, if you carry on like this.” 

“Shut up, Stick. You’ve been outvoted, and if we have to enforce that, we will.” 

“All of you are so goddamn stupid,” Stick mutters. He levels his gaze at Frank. “Y’know, I thought you, at least, had the guts to do what it takes.” 

“I already told you, so this time I’m gonna make it real simple. I don’t kill the good guys, asshole.” 

Stick tuts, as if admonishing a child, but says nothing more. He sits on a chair and scowls at the room at large, and Matt pays him no further attention. Instead, he begins to explain to Frank, Luke, and Danny what they’d found at the architect’s house, with Jessica interjecting with biting wit when he misses things out. 

“So what, we’re taking up the demolition for him?” Frank grunts. 

“Well, that’s one idea,” Jessica mumbles. 

Danny, however, begins to look a little excited. “As long as there’s nobody innocent in there... That might work!” 

“Just walking in there’ll encounter a lot of resistance, though,” Matt points out, “We’d have to cause a distraction.” 

“Am I the only one who doesn’t want to blow this place up?” Luke asks. “I mean, I know we said no innocents, but I’m not fully convinced about it either way.” 

“Everyone at risk from it is already dead,” Stick replies from the corner he’s retreated to, “Remember?” 

“I still don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to like it, as long as you think it’s the best course of action,” Matt reasons. 

“I... Fine. Yeah, okay.” Luke shakes his head in disbelief at himself for his own agreement. 

“So what kind of distraction are we looking for?” Danny asks. 

“Maybe find a way to convince them that Danny’s been seen somewhere?” Jessica suggests. 

“They’d only send Elektra, nobody else,” Matt sighs. 

“What if Colleen communicates with Bakuto?” Luke proposes. 

“No way,” Danny refuses immediately, “We’re not getting her involved.” 

“You saw how much she hated being left behind. I hate it too, but...” Luke trails off. Then he pulls a face. “Actually, you’re right. That was a terrible idea.” 

“I’d be more than happy to shoot another one of ‘em,” Frank offers, “If we know where they are. That’d get a response.” 

“But we don’t know where they are,” Jessica says, “Other than, y’know, Midland Circle, which would just mean a pointless cycle of sniping forever without them ever leaving their base of operations.” 

The suggestions bounce around the room for hours. Eventually, Jessica heads out to grab them food with one of Danny’s plethora of credit cards. They’re each digging into their own pizzas from some place on the corner of a street when Matt’s phone starts to speak in its automated voice. 

_Karen. Karen. Karen. Karen._

He isn’t quite sure about answering it, but then Jessica’s phone buzzes in her pocket. Beside her, Luke’s phone begins ringing, and then Danny’s brand new device joins the cacophony of calls. Matt can feel his face pass through mild concern before settling into low-level panic. He pulls the device out and fumbles to answer it, pressing it to his ear and turning away from the others. 

“Karen?” 

“Matt,” she says, voice tense, “There’s a group outside. They look like... It’s them. I’m sure of it. The cops are barricading the doors, but I don’t know what... They’re just stood there, and the police are arming themselves, and Curtis and I each just have tiny handguns and there’s a woman in here who looks like she’s planning to defend herself with a fucking sword!” 

“We’re coming, Karen,” Matt tells her grimly, “Stay put, stay away as long as you can. We’re on our way.” 

He hangs up almost in unison with the others in the warehouse. He can hear their heartbeats, slightly faster than they were mere minutes ago, and he knows at once that all of them have just heard the same news. As they reassemble in the centre, Matt notes Frank’s uncomfortable twitch. 

“Anyone gonna tell me what that’s about?” 

“Curtis didn’t call?” 

“Couldn’t exactly get away with it, could he? We told him to say he was with you so they didn’t know I’m involved.” 

“Shit,” Matt says, running a hand through his hair, “Right.” He takes a steadying breath. “The Hand’s attacking the precinct. Everyone’s trapped inside.” 

* * *

“What the fuck do we do now?” There’s a tremble of fury in the question. 

“Jess, calm down.” 

“Oh, screw you, Luke!” 

“Stop it,” Matt says, voice hard but not harsh. 

“You’re the ones who wanted a distraction,” Stick breaks in with a shrug. 

“Not at the cost of our friends,” Jessica retorts. 

“Hate to say it, but the old man’s right,” Frank says, “This is the best chance we’ve got.” 

“But the C4 is in the precinct,” Danny points out, “We’ve got to get it out.” 

“Shit.” 

“We need to decide who’s going to Midland Circle with the explosives. If we can distract them while we’re at the precinct, they won’t even know it’s gone.” Matt sounds a lot calmer than he feels. The thought of Karen and Foggy being at risk is pervasive, and he’s incredibly on edge. “Does anybody have any experience with...?” He trails off. 

“Things that blow up?” Frank finishes for him. “It's not my speciality, but I reckon I could work it out if you needed.” 

“Anybody else?” 

Everybody shifts awkwardly. Eventually, Luke speaks up. 

“I guess I’m the most durable, and I think I could shield Frank if I absolutely had to.” 

“Alright,” Matt agrees, “We go to the precinct to defend our friends, and we use Danny’s presence to keep them there while Frank and Luke take the explosives, go to Midland Circle, and blow it up. Any questions?” 

“Matty,” Stick says, “This is a stupid plan.” 

“Got anything better?” Frank retorts on Matt’s behalf. 

Stick doesn’t answer. He simply lets out a huff. 

“Isn’t it a bit... Simplistic?” Danny asks, a little nervously. 

“If the plan’s simple, then there’s less chance something goes wrong. Throw in too many variables, it could be a problem,” Matt replies. 

“This is insane,” Jessica mumbles, before saying in a louder voice, “What are we waiting for?” 

Everyone moves at once. The van they’d used first to transport Sowande and then to travel to the safe house is parked a little way down, and Matt changes into the suit and Frank slips on his vest as Luke drives the vehicle round. They pile in haphazardly, and Jessica slides into the passenger seat beside Luke. Stick is herded (still mumbling about the terribleness of the plan) into the back by Matt, who’s holding his helmet, and the two of them sit on one side whilst Danny seats himself opposite Stick. Frank closes the back door behind himself with a slam, shooting Danny a look of faint displeasure when the young man grins at him, and sits down facing Matt. There’s still a gap between the pair and the others in the back of the van, which leaves them the only modicum if privacy they’re going to get before everything goes downhill. Frank taps his foot uncomfortably one, two, three times before stiffening to keep it from moving, mouthing words to himself. It’s almost more of a lingering habit than a deliberate choice. He’s prepared to kill, and so his lips move in the familiar shapes. 

_One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime._

Matt’s hand reaches forward, resting over both of Frank’s where they’re clasped together. Frank lifts his head from where he’s staring at them. It’s almost strange looking at Matt in the suit now; he hadn’t really had a moment to just sit and observe earlier, but until the events of the last few days, it’d been a year and a half since he’d seen Matt dressed in his Daredevil persona. Although his face is uncovered at the moment, his eyes turned in Frank’s general direction, the red of the suit remains peculiarly unfamiliar. 

“Are you sure you’re alright to do this?” Matt asks quietly. 

“I’ll always save your ass, Red,” Frank says, “The city’s just a bonus.” 

Matt gives him a small smile. “I know. But how you feel is important too.” 

“I told you before, I ain’t losing you, Matty.” 

Matt shuffles over to him, the movement a lot more awkward than usual due to the movement of the van. He’s a little uncertain, but he manages to wedge himself between Frank and the door. Bringing his hand over to Frank’s face, Matt turns his boyfriend’s face in his direction. 

“I love you,” he says quietly. 

“Yeah,” Frank replies, voice suddenly hoarse, “Love you too.” 

* * *

“There’s no way in,” Luke says, staring at the precinct from the safest distance they can manage whilst still being able to see. 

The whole building is surrounded by Hand members. Every entrance from the roof down is covered by at least eight of them, and Matt’s particularly displeased to note that Elektra is amongst those by the front door. 

“There are six of us,” he points out, “And we’ve held our own against them before.” 

Danny nods once, firmly. “We should choose the entrance with the fewest Hand members and fight our way in. We can let Colleen know we’re coming.” He’s already pulled his phone out to text her. 

“Best plan we’ve got,” Jessica agrees, sounding even more pissed off than she usually does. 

“Not that any of you morons seems to understand planning,” Stick grumbles. He’s clearly intending to work with the rest of them, though, so they all ignore him. 

“I’m going up on the roof of the building next door,” Frank informs them, hefting his sniper rifle in his hands, “Pick ‘em off from above until I leave with Cage.” 

“I’ll bring the explosives out,” Luke says. 

They all move as if to part ways with Frank, but Matt speaks, causing a temporary halt in their movements. “Hey... However this goes... It was good. Working together.” 

“I ain’t hugging you,” Luke says, but it’s clearly in good humour. 

“Everyone, uh... Take care,” Danny chips in. 

With that, they split. 

Matt hates the churning in his stomach as he watches Frank slide into the shadows, making his way up the neighbouring building. He shoves it off, instead focusing on the sounds and the smells of the Hand’s fighters. There’s a back entrance, hidden down an alley, and there are at least five fewer Hand members watching it than any of the others. He relays the information to the others, feeling the small motions of his own head as he confirms it. Then he pauses, seeking out specific individuals. 

“That Bakuto guy’s up on the roof. Gao’s at the back entrance, and I have no idea where Murakami is. Elektra’s at the front, but she... She smells like blood. She’s cleaned it off but it’s still there. I think it’s Alexandra’s.” 

“She launched a coup,” Stick says, somehow begrudgingly impressed at the same time as being his regular, dismissive self. 

“Let’s get to that side entrance,” Luke suggests, “And we can worry about who’s in charge later.” 

It’s a lot easier said than done, but still not as disastrous as Matt had initially feared. There’s another alley which joins the side they intend to enter from, allowing them to arrive discreetly. By the time the group guarding the door notice them, Jessica’s already mid-movement of punching one of them in the face, and Stick’s stabbed another. Luke follows Jessica’s example with the blow to the face, and Matt slams the fourth man’s head into a wall. Danny kicks a fifth, then punches the sixth twice in quick succession. Stick slices the throat of the penultimate man in a single fluid motion, and Matt kicks the last one in the stomach, sending him towards Jess, who smacks him unceremoniously with the lid of a trash can. Danny knocks out a rhythm on the door, and Colleen promptly flings it open and pulls him inside, ushering the others in behind him. The tight hug she pulls him into gives Matt knots in his stomach; it makes him think of Frank, and how he’s never been this worried before a fight. He’s self-aware enough to know that most of that worry isn’t for himself. The bang of the door slamming behind Luke (the last one in) jolts him from his thoughts. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Colleen says. It seems like she’s pretending it’s addressed to everyone but is only really talking to Danny. 

“We need the C4 they have in the evidence lockup,” Matt tells her. He hates to break up their reunion, but they have work to do. 

“Uh... I think that’s towards the back of the building,” she replies, sounding a little confused about why, exactly, they need it. 

“I’ll talk to Misty.” Luke shifts, ready to go and find his friend. 

“Forgiveness, not permission, Luke,” Jessica practically barks out, “Just take it and go, and we’ll cover you on the way out.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation, but he eventually nods. He heads in the direction Colleen had indicated, and Matt lets him go. This is, after all, Luke’s local precinct; he probably knows it better than the rest of them. Colleen begins leading them toward their friends, and as soon as they enter the room, Karen practically launches herself at him. 

“Hey,” she says as she hurries over, “How did you get in?” She lowers her voice. “Where’s Frank?” 

Matt hears Foggy approaching at speed too, and the slightly uneven step of Curtis approaching with his artificial leg. He knows both of them will have the same question, so he waits for them to reach him before he answers. 

“Frank’s outside. The police wouldn’t take kindly to the Punisher wandering in here. Besides, he’s got something else to do while we’re here.” 

“Yeah, about that,” Foggy says, “You told me your boyfriend was called Pete!” 

“Well, he’s got the paperwork that says he is,” Curtis points out reasonably. 

Matt ignores the comments. If everything works out, he can address it later. “We actually all need to go. We have something to do, and we shouldn’t leave Frank out there for longer than necessary.” 

“Wait, he’s outside? With all of... Whoever they are?” Curtis asks, worry creeping into his voice. 

“He’s on a roof,” Matt says, “He’s going to be sniping them when we leave.” 

“You’re leaving again?” Karen sounds like she can’t decide whether to be angry or terrified. 

“We’ll just be outside. You three need to stay in here. Don’t leave unless you see me or one of the others.” Stick tuts loudly behind him. Matt spins on his heel to face in his direction. “What?” 

“There’s no time for this shit, Matty.” 

“Stick, as has been the case this entire time, _I didn’t fucking ask_.” 

He knows Stick’s right though, so he begrudgingly sweeps Jessica away from Trish Walker and her other friend that he doesn’t recognise, then collects Danny from Colleen and Claire. Claire’s clearly been filled in by Danny, since she doesn’t ask where Luke is. Colleen, however, looks incredibly displeased. 

“I can fight, I don’t need to be stuck in here.” It’s clearly not the first time she’s said it. 

“I need you safe,” Danny says. The slight whine and less-slight fear in his voice remind Matt just how young the man actually is; he’s some six to eight years Matt’s junior. 

“We need you in here,” Matt says, “Because you’re the best fighter of the people we care about. If somebody gets in here, we can’t be everywhere at once. We’ll need you to protect the others.” 

Colleen clearly isn’t fully on board, but the tension and fight drains out of her at that. “Okay,” she agrees, “But if there’s anything you need me for...” 

“Ironclad here will call,” Jessica snaps, “Now let’s go!” 

“It’s actually Iron Fist,” Danny corrects her. 

“I know.” 

The group heads in the direction Luke had departed in, only to run into him in the corridor. He looks distinctly uncomfortable to be carrying so many explosives, but there’s also a determined set in his face that indicates that he intends to see this through. 

“How do we get all this out?” he asks without preamble. 

“We’ll cause a distraction up front. You head out the back. Don’t leave until you hear that Gao’s left the back entrance, and don’t use the side entrance we came in through, they’ll know you know the route,” Matt declares. 

“Thought you didn’t wanna lead anyone?” Stick mutters. 

Matt scowls. Although most of it is lost behind his mask, he’s intimidated enough criminals to know it still has an effect. “I still don’t. I’m just calling the play as I see it.” 

“Then let’s fucking go,” Jessica tells them, “Move it!” 

As Luke splits off, the group staying at the station head towards the front. Matt can’t help the sinking feeling that their numbers are dwindling and they haven’t even started fighting yet. He knows it’s been a deliberate choice, but it’s still a little discouraging. There’s a group of officers standing with their weapons levelled at the front doors, and they look a little confused as to why these people are trying to get back out there. The one Matt assumes is Luke’s friend Misty, though, seems to be expecting them. 

“I can’t believe all of you got me into this,” she sighs. 

“Luke’s fault, he’s the one who asked nicely,” Jessica says, voice thick with snark. 

“You’re heading out there?” Misty asks, ignoring Jessica entirely. 

“Yeah. Don’t let anyone follow,” Danny says. 

“And when you see an old Chinese woman come round to the front, tell Luke,” Matt adds. 

“I am... Not even gonna ask. Fine.” 

She gestures at the officers by the door to move back and let them out, and they do so reluctantly. Matt raises three fingers, ready to count down. The eyes on him from Jessica and Danny, as well as Stick’s sightless gaze, are a little intimidating, and that’s disregarding the observing police. He lowers one finger, then another, then the last one. The door opens. 

* * *

The response is immediate. Three members of the Hand leap towards them instantly, and it’s all Matt can do not to fall back to a defensive stance, which would give them access to the building. Instead, he presses forwards. Jessica, Danny, and Stick are all beside him, pushing back. The surprise of their appearance has at least thrown most of the masses outside, meaning that only the original three are headed directly at them. The doors slam behind them just in time for the rest to regroup. Matt throws a punch at the exact same time as Danny, and Stick gets just clear enough to swing his blade without injuring them in the process, taking out one of the men still scrambling to gather his wits and join in the fight. Jessica launches a kick, and her opponent flies backwards into two others, all of whom crash to the ground dramatically. 

“Nice,” Matt says appreciatively. 

“Thanks,” she calls back, “Pay attention to yourself, asshole!” 

Another assailant heads towards him, but he doesn’t even get within arm’s reach. Instead, he jolts, then hits the ground with a thud, lying prone at Mary’s feet. Matt knows what he’d see if he weren’t blind; the smell of blood mixes with a metal tang he’s lived with for a year. The man’s got a bullet in his forehead. 

“Thought snipers usually went torso?” Jessica calls. 

“Not this one,” Matt replies, “Not always.” 

He hates the pride in his voice. It’s uncomfortably close to grating on his moral code, and he reminds himself that the members of the Hand are already dead. He lands a short, sharp blow to the face of the next person to approach him to distract himself from that line of thought, breaking their nose in the process. He follows up with a kick to the chest, then elbows the one approaching him from behind directly in the eye. Matt loses himself in the fight, barely even registering when the shots from above stop. When it hits him, though, he has a moment of panic. He can’t help worrying that something’s happened to Frank, even though he knows full well that the plan requires Frank to leave. He grits his teeth, then throws himself back into the fight, blocking a swipe from a sword with his billy club. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been fighting when he hears it. He’d lost track of Stick a few minutes ago, but now he knows exactly where he is. Blood and metal combine in a sickening scent which fills the air, obvious only to Matt. There’s an unpleasant sound as the blade slides from the freshly made wound in Stick’s chest. He recognises the person holding the weapon, and it turns his stomach. 

“No!” 

It’s an involuntary yell, and the turn in Stick’s direction is just as instinctive. Matt’s movement is a whirlwind as he fights his way over to his mentor’s side. He knows before he gets there it’s too late; there’s a final word punching its way past Stick’s lips, and then he falls silent. 

“Ellie...” 

Elektra’s breathing is surprisingly heavy; Matt has no doubt that Stick fought to the very end. He swallows hard. When the words come, they’re hoarse. 

“What have you done? Elektra...” 

“Hello, Matthew,” she says, the blood dripping from her blade to the ground in slow, horrifyingly hypnotising drops, “Shall we dance?” 

* * *

Frank aims. He breathes. He fires. He repeats. He’s lost track of how long he’s been doing it when Luke arrives beside him, clutching the C4 in a bag and looking a little wide-eyed. He disassembles his weapon with a speed that comes only from practice, then gives the newcomer a once over. 

“You good?” 

Luke nods, a little shakily. “There is... A lot going on down there.” 

“Yeah,” Frank agrees, before adding a little bitterly, “At least the person you’re trying to keep safe are inside the fucking building.” 

“What do you...? Matt.” Luke’s answered his own question. 

“Mm-hm.” Frank shakes himself from his brief moment of melancholy. “Not that there’s time to worry about the dumbass. We gotta go.” 

The two have safely made it from the roof before any of the Hand notice them. Fortunately, it’s only a very small group of reserves waiting to intervene if necessary. It’s still a pain in the ass. Frank shares a glance with Luke. 

“These pieces of shit just don’t know when to quit, so they?” he says through gritted teeth. 

Luke shrugs. “Maybe we should give them a clue.” 

That’s the cue. He’s got a gun out and shot one of them in the face before she can even move. He slams the butt of the weapon into another‘s head, then punches a third in the stomach so hard he flies backwards into Luke’s awaiting fists. Luke’s dealing with his own little group, but he too seems to be making comparatively short work of the Hand members. Frank shoots the last one standing in the chest, then grabs the bag of C4 where Luke had placed it during the fight. 

“Let’s go.” 

In the aftermath of the tremors, traffic’s a little lighter than usual. The difference is only marginal, but it shaved enough time off the drive in the shitty van that Frank’s considering them ahead of schedule. Not that they have a schedule, per se, but still. He mouths the words again, a painfully comforting weight to them. 

_One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime._

He opens the door as they arrive at Midland Circle and slides out of the van. 

_One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime._

He grabs the C4 from the back of the vehicle, glancing at Luke only once. 

_One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime._

They step inside the front entrance. 

_One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime._

“You ready for this?” Luke asks. 

“I’ve done shit like this a hundred times. Are _you_ ready for this?” 

“Not really, but I’m doing it anyway.” 

They’ve barely located the first support pillar to destroy when Frank tenses. There’s a prowling shape approaching from the shadows, and if he weren’t so used to Matt falling into old habits and moving near-silently through the apartment regularly, he doesn’t know if he’d have noticed. As it is, though, the man cloaked in darkness has his attention. He runs through the names he has for members of the Hand, eventually settling on Murakami. The old man had mentioned his lone wolf tendencies, as well as his deadliness. 

“Cage,” Frank murmurs, voice so low it emerges almost as a grumble, “We got company.” 

Luke looks up from the explosives he’s fiddling with, and Frank shoots him a look. He’s being too damn obvious. The warning is too little, too late: Murakami already knows he’s been spotted. 

“Sweet Christmas,” Luke mutters. He moves as if to enter a fighting stance. 

“I got this,” Frank says. 

“I’m the durable one.” 

“I’ve gone toe to toe with Daredevil and won.” 

He doesn’t mention the bullet he’d sent at Matt’s head to win that fight. It’d remind Luke of Frank’s willingness to use guns and, by extension, lethal force; although Frank hadn’t shot to kill that time, it had been more the exception than the rule. Luke’s considerably less comfortable with killing than Frank, and he thinks that might make the difference between victory and defeat in this case. 

“Fine,” Luke agrees. It’s the most reluctant he’s sounded since Frank met him, which is really saying something. 

Frank moves forward, looking directly at Murakami. The man emerges from the shadows he’s cloaked in, discarding stealth – after all, it’s not like he can use it now that he’s been seen. Behind Frank, Luke’s movements quicken. They’re fumbling and often uncertain, but they haven’t been blown sky high yet, so he must be doing something right. Evaluating the situation as fast as he can, Frank pulls out his KA-BAR. He doesn’t want to risk any guns; even though he’s fully aware of how good he is with them, he’s still somewhat concerned he’ll accidentally detonate the explosives. 

It’s a good thing he moves quickly, because Murakami dives at him. He’s brandishing a tantō, and Frank barely gets his own weapon up in time to deflect it. The KA-BAR isn’t meant for this kind of thing, and it shows; the deflections are clumsy despite Frank’s skills. He’s pushed back a few steps before he’s able to set his stance and stand his ground, and he can’t help the tiny part of him which regrets not handling the explosives and letting Luke deal with this. Shoving the feeling aside, he scowls, opening his mouth to antagonise his opponent and distract him from Luke. 

“You’re one irritating motherfucker, you know that?” he says. 

Murakami’s eyes narrow briefly. The stage is set. 

* * *

The movement of Elektra’s weapons meeting Matt’s billy clubs is a whirlwind. Occasionally, members of the Hand attempt to intervene, but Matt rebuffs them all and, eventually, Elektra runs her blade through her own fighter, insisting that Matt is hers. After that, they’re left alone, their battle a deadly waltz cutting through the siege of the precinct. Matt’s dimly aware of Jessica and Danny’s fighting but for the most part he tunes it out. He’s too busy defending and attacking, attacking and defending, pushing back against Elektra. He can’t quite stop his own attempts to limit the strength of his attacks. He isn’t even sure he wants to. 

“Elektra, this isn’t you!” he tells her, breathing harsh from exertion. 

“I chose this,” she snaps back, “I killed the old man!” 

“But you don’t have to kill anyone else!” 

“I don’t _have_ to do anything, Matthew. But I want to.” 

There’s a sharp clang of metal on metal as their weapons meet. Breathe in. Breathe out. Push back. 

“I don’t think you do. This was never what you wanted.” 

“Then you know nothing.” 

“I know enough! I knew you, and you knew me, better than anyone else.” 

“And now?” 

“I still know you.” 

“What about me? Do I know you?” 

“Not as well as you used to,” Matt admits, “But I’ll always love you, and you can come _back_.” 

That’s the part that’s important. She can turn away from this. 

“You love me? Does Frank Castle know that?” 

Elektra clearly means it to be biting. It’s intended to throw him, to make him choose, to put doubt in his mind. It doesn’t. Frank is a part of him, and as confusing as it sounds, what he has with Frank is probably the healthiest relationship he’s ever had. It’s the one he wants to last, the one he hopes is forever. Elektra lives in his heart, but Frank is in his soul, in his very being, forming the fire that is his world through his burning existence, and that’s the difference between them. A heart, despite the pain, can be removed and stop. A soul endures. The secret romantic that hides deep, deep inside Matt knows that whatever happens, Frank will always be it for him, and that’s something that can’t fade. He also knows that Elektra doesn’t need to know all of that. 

“Frank knows,” he says simply instead, “And he trusts me. We can help you, Elektra, but you have to stop this!” 

“If you love me like you say you do, join us. Join _me_ ,” she emphasises. It’s not pleading, but there’s something in her tone that jolts Matt’s insides unpleasantly. 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“Then you will simply have to get out of my way.” 

The slash of her sai is slightly less composed than her usual assaults, and it’s that which distracts Matt. The blade slices through one of the weakest areas on the arm of his Daredevil suit, leaving a thin line of oozing red. He jerks back ever so slightly from the pain, then presses forward with his own attack. He studiously ignores the stinging in his arm. 

Nearby, the numbers of the Hand are dwindling. Jessica and Danny have dispatched most of them, and Gao is beginning to look concerned. Bakuto is nowhere to be seen. Matt can’t dwell on any of that, though: Elektra seems to be tiring, but so is he, and he needs to finish this as soon as he can. He lands his first solid blow just as Gao approaches Danny. Elektra stumbles backwards, letting out a pained wheeze as the air is pushed out of her, and Matt drives forwards again. 

“Stop this,” he begs, his billy club knocking her arm to the side, “Elektra, please.” 

“We were meant to be together.” She sounds less angry than sad, and the previous flashes of fury she’d shown have abated. “That’s what I wanted, from the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

“You know it can’t happen the way you pictured,” Matt tells her, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be together. I care about you, Elektra, even if it isn’t romantic anymore. You don’t need to do this.” 

She lets out what he can only describe as a pained war cry, lunging towards him. Matt twists sideways out of the path of her weapon, then swings round and sweeps her legs out from underneath her. She grabs him and takes him down with her, which he probably should have seen coming. He lands on top of her, both of them breathing heavily. 

“Elektra...” 

“I’m sorry for the hurt I have caused you, Matthew.” She sounds like she means it, sadness flooding her voice. “But even if I did turn from this path, I could not watch you with another whose flaws match my own and question why him and not me.” 

“Because you enjoy it,” Matt says, heart heavy. He knows he can’t lie to her. “And he does it because he feels he has to. He takes satisfaction, but never the same kind of pleasure. I’m not the only reason he’d compromise. Elektra, you and me? We aren’t healthy. We’ve always known that.” 

Elektra lets out a wounded snarl, jolting up underneath Matt and attempting to reach for her sai swords. He acts on instinct, using his own billy club to cause a quickly calculated impact to the side of her head, and she falls limp beneath him. Heaving himself up, he takes stock on the situation. Between them, Jessica and Danny have subdued Gao, and the ground in front of the precinct is littered with unconscious bodies. Stick’s prone form is the only one without a heartbeat, but nobody else in the vicinity is waking up any time soon. 

Matt, Danny and Jessica convene in front of the doors. There isn’t even a moment for them to speak before an explosion rumbles from several blocks away. The ground shakes beneath them, followed by the sound of a building collapsing down on itself. 

“They did it!” Danny exclaims needlessly. 

“Thank God,” Jessica mumbles, but even her acerbic tone is tempered with a little genuine relief, “I’m going in to find Trish and Malcolm.” 

It only took a moment of distraction, but Matt notices it immediately. Elektra’s gone. 

* * *

Frank’s starting to get really pissed. Murakami is clearly trying to get to Luke at this point, and consistently throwing himself in the swordsman’s path isn’t exactly what Frank considers an effective strategy. His KA-BAR is faltering, and so is he. 

“Hurry _up_ , Cage,” he bites out, before letting out a hiss as the tantō grazes his left leg. He makes a responding slash with his own weapon, then raises it in defence once again. 

“I’m trying!” 

Murakami flicks his wrist. Frank can’t see exactly what it is he’s done, but the KA-BAR goes flying. _Oh, shit_. Taking advantage of Frank’s lack of a weapon, Murakami dives at Luke, blade aimed directly at his eyes. The Hand has clearly learnt from last time, since Murakami’s avoiding his near-invulnerable skin in favour of a more vulnerable spot. Frank tackles the man to the floor, blade clattering to the ground beside them, and Luke’s fiddling with the explosives speeds up even further. Murakami shoves Frank off him and grabs for his weapon. Even as he staggers upright, Frank knows he’s lost his chance. He’s good at fighting, but somebody this well-trained attacking him with a sword while he himself is unarmed is a recipe for disaster. 

There’s no way to avoid the jab of the tantō as it sinks through his bulletproof vest. He’d invested in a more resilient one, intended to defend against knife attack as well as bullets, but a short sword is in a different league to the blades he usually encounters. Frank notes the weapon sinking into his lower abdomen almost distantly, and the strange feeling of shifting as the weapon retreating distracts him momentarily. It allows Murakami to sweep his legs out from beneath him, and with a thud he hits the ground he’s just stumbled up from. He resigns himself as he sees his opponent raise the short sword to land a finishing blow, but he refuses to close his eyes despite his waning concentration. If Frank Castle has to leave this world at the end of a blade, he’s not going to give his killer the satisfaction of him looking away. 

The sword never falls. The blow to the side of Murakami’s head throws him sideways into a wall, and he collapses, motionless, to the ground. In his place stands Luke, hand still balled into a fist. He gives Frank a look of concern. It’s obvious that he’s about to start trying to tend to Frank’s wounds to the best of his abilities, but Frank grunts out a refusal. 

“Set the timer going,” he mumbles, “Gotta blow the building.” 

Luke gives an uncertain nod and does as he’s told. The moment he backs away from the control panels however, he’s scooping Frank up like he weighs nothing and moving him from the building. Frank would probably be more upset about it if he weren’t distracted by the pain in his abdomen and the slowing of his thoughts. The moment Luke gets him far enough away from the anticipated blast radius, he’s placed on the ground. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead, as well as the oozing of the blood from his injury, and he’s seen this enough to know what’s happening. Luke probably knows logically, but he seems a little thrown by it happening right before his eyes. 

“You’re cold,” he states blankly. 

“‘M goin’ into shock,” Frank half-slurs. He’s feeling dizzy, and it’s getting hard to think. 

“Shit,” Luke says, “Shit. I’m calling Claire.” 

Frank figures he does exactly that, because Luke starts pressing down on the wound as a female voice emerges tinnily from a phone. The strangled yell he lets out elicits a flinch from the other man, but the pressure doesn’t let up. 

“You gotta... Matt. Want Matt.” Frank knows nothing he says is making much sense, but he can’t quite collect his thoughts enough to amend that. 

“He’s confused,” Luke informs the voice on the other end of the phone. More instructions come rattling through, but Frank can’t pick them out. 

“Maria,” he mumbles, “Matt.” 

Everything hurts, and he wants... He wants... 

It doesn’t matter what he wants, because what he gets is darkness. His last conscious thought is of vacant eyes and soft hair and a red, red suit. 

* * *

“Matt, you can’t sit here forever.” 

Claire’s voice, whilst being no-nonsense, is sympathetic. Matt blinks dumbly behind his glasses. He can’t remember the last time he slept. 

“What if he wakes up?” 

“Then someone will come and get you,” she says, “You being here doesn’t help him get better faster.” 

“He wouldn’t be here if not for me.” 

“Don’t do that, Murdock. From what I hear, which is confusing because –" Her voice drops “– this is the freaking Punisher, he loves you, and he chose this.” 

“But...” 

“Did you hold a weapon at him and tell him he had to help?” 

“No, but–” 

“Did you threaten him in any way, physically or emotionally?” 

“Of course not, but–” 

“Then it’s not your fault,” Claire ploughs on. 

Matt deflates like someone’s let all the air out of him. “I can’t lose him, Claire. I just can’t.” 

“I know,” she says softly, “And that’s why we’re telling a hospital that there’s some guy called Pete lying in that bed.” 

“I didn’t think it could get worse than Elektra killing Stick,” Matt murmurs almost to himself. 

“You need rest, Matt,” Claire insists. 

“I’m not leaving him,” Matt reiterates. 

The sigh he gets in response is fond, concerned and exasperated, all at once. “Then sleep in here. Danny said he’d come and keep an eye on him while you went and slept, so I’m sure he’ll be willing to do it if you sleep in here too.” 

Matt nods, and she leaves, clearly seeking out Danny. Matt takes the opportunity to use his senses to examine Frank. There’s no motion from the man lying in the bed. The wound in his abdomen is stitched up, and there’s an IV in his arm. The fear Matt had felt when Claire had appeared at his side, holding out her phone with Luke on the other end, had been sickening. The long wait as Frank had received transfusions and stitches and God knows what else had been just as bad. The shallowness of his breathing had been deafening to Matt’s sensitive ears, and his heartbeat had been a far cry from the steady, reassuring sound Matt adores. The cool press of metal dog tags over his heart make him ache inside. 

“Remember when you gave me these?” he whispers. “You said you wouldn’t die without me. It doesn’t count if you don’t get to say goodbye, Frank.” 

He blinks twice more, eyes heavy. He’s so distracted that he jumps slightly when Danny slips in and closes the door behind himself. Matt doesn’t need to be able to see Danny’s face to feel the sympathy he’s practically radiating. The Iron Fist had proven fallible when they’d entered the precinct after the fight, finding Colleen stood, halfway to catatonic with horror, in front of the others they’d been protecting with a bloodstained weapon and the headless body of Bakuto on the floor in front of her, and it’s clear that it’s made Danny even more empathetic to Matt’s situation. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to think that this is the moment to talk about it. 

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, “You can sleep now. I’ll watch him.” 

“Thank you,” Matt practically whispers. He’s out like a light within seconds, fingers loosely intertwined with those of his partner. 

* * *

Frank blinks awake slowly. His eyes are fighting him every step of the way, but he pushes past it. There’s a feeling of skin touching skin, his hands linked with somebody else’s, and his tongue feels leaden in his mouth as he croaks out words. 

“Matt? Matty?” 

“Oh, shit,” a vaguely familiar voice exclaims next to him. The form of a young man enters Frank’s still-blurry vision, shaking a figure in a seat beside the bed. “Matt! Matt, he’s awake!” 

Matt jolts awake just as Frank’s vision properly focuses. He’s bruised, his glasses abandoned on a table across the room, and his arm is bandaged right where it emerges from the short sleeve of his button-down shirt. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a month. 

“Frank!” The name tumbles out of his mouth like he couldn’t stop it if he tried. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?” 

“Hurts, but I think I’m a bit drugged up, because otherwise I wouldn’t tell you that,” Frank mumbles. The relieved grin he receives in return lifts some of the stress from Matt’s face. It’s as blinding as the sun, and it’s up there on the list of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. 

He’s clearly voiced this, because Danny lets out a cheerful, “Gross,” before excusing himself to let the others know that Frank’s awake. The room falls briefly silent as the door closes behind him, then Matt clears his throat. 

“You, uh... You... Honestly, you scared the shit out of me, Frank.” 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Frank says with a grin, “I’ll try and get stabbed a little less next time.” 

“You’d better,” Matt warns, but he’s smiling too, relief etched all over his face. 

The smile doesn’t vanish even as he leans over to carefully, gently, sweetly kiss Frank. It’s almost worth getting stabbed for. 

* * *

It takes another week for Frank to be let out of the hospital. His beard’s well on the way to growing back by then, which is a relief since Matt kept shuddering at the scrape of the stubble with every kiss. He still moves gingerly so as not to aggravate the wound, but things are slowly heading back towards normal. 

Some things have definitely changed, though. For starters, the very short list of contacts in Frank’s phone has expanded by several people, and the most surprising of these is the addition of Danny Fucking Rand, Billionaire, to his speed dial. The man’s texts are filled with emojis as if he’s delighted by their very existence, which given the time he’d spent in a monastery is entirely possible. Jessica gives both Frank and Matt her number, then threatens to punch them if they ever use it. Frank figures it’s her version of a nice gesture and lets it go. (“She reminds me a little of you,” says Matt.) Luke seems to be feeling guilty for Frank getting stabbed, which is total bullshit, as Frank himself says loudly and often. Fortunately, Claire seems perfectly happy to call him out on his pity party; Frank suspects that if they’d talked more, he’d have really started liking her. 

The second thing that‘s new is that both Karen and Foggy Nelson show up on their doorstep the day after Frank returns to the apartment. He and Matt had spent the day tidying up after the latter sheepishly admitted to not having returned since Frank was taken to the hospital. There had still been mess everywhere from the aftermath of the tremor and so, after being scolded by Matt for trying to do too much with a large number of stitches in his abdomen, Frank had sat on the sofa and told Matt what he’d missed whilst cleaning. It had been tedious, but they’d rewarded each other with brief, lazy kisses every time the lawyer passed where Frank was sprawled on the sofa. 

Now, Frank’s stood a little blankly in front of an open door, looking at the large ham that Nelson’s brandishing at him. He blinks twice, then wanders away, letting them in behind him. 

“It’s for you,” he calls to Matt, who pokes his head up from the sofa. 

“Actually,” Nelson says, lawyer voice in full force, “It’s for both of you. If you’re dating Matt, I... Guess I should get to know you.” It sounds like he’d rather be doing anything else, and Karen’s slightly-too-tight grip on his arm may well be the only thing persuading him to say those words. 

The delighted smile he receives from Matt seems to work, though. Nelson’s already starting to ease up, and Frank can’t help thinking to himself that he’s not surprised at all. Matt’s got some kind of magic around him, Frank reckons; it’s the only possible explanation for the effect his grin has on everyone around him. The point is reinforced by the fact that, as his boyfriend turns the smile on him, Frank finds himself agreeing to a sit-down dinner with Matt’s friends. By the time it ends, he’s even willing to begrudgingly admit that Nelson isn’t all that bad (even if he still resolutely refuses to call the man Foggy) and finds himself agreeing to do this again next week. 

The third major change is that, as Frank begins to heal, he and Matt find themselves going out on patrol together. As Frank had predicted way back when he’d first broken into the apartment well over a year ago, Matt couldn’t stay away from the Devil, and Frank’s been right next to him the whole time. Frank’s a lot more discreet about the whole thing than he’d like, but he sticks to shooting out joints and maiming limbs rather than fully fledged killing. He’s sure that at some point, something will go awry and he’ll make a fatal shot, but when that time comes, he’ll deal with it. As it is, he relishes in fighting alongside Matt, coming home and patching up his (thankfully usually minor) injuries and Matt doing the same for him. 

It’s after one such night that he finds himself tangled on the sofa with Matt, legs intertwined. They’ve both changed into sweatpants and shirts, but since it’s been a quiet night, they’re both far too wired to sleep. There’s a moment of silence, then Matt speaks. 

“I’m glad you came here that night.” 

Frank immediately knows which night Matt means. It’s not hard to guess. “I’m glad too,” he admits. 

“When you were in the hospital... I was so afraid I’d lost you.” It’s quiet, as if telling some deep, dark secret, and given the lingering communication issues the both of them share, it might as well be. 

“Told you last Christmas, Matty,” Frank says, “I’m not dying anywhere you ain’t with me.” 

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t die anywhere for a long time,” Matt answers. It’s so close to a joke, but there’s seriousness in his voice. 

“I don’t plan to.” 

The meeting of their lips is synchronised, another extension of the unison they’ve developed both when fighting and when enveloped in domesticity. It electrifies the both of them, spreading out through their bones to their fingertips and beyond, and Frank thinks briefly – oh, so briefly – of the ring he’d very nearly not bought. He pushes the thought out of his mind; after all, he doesn’t need to do it tonight. They have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'm on tumblr: [click-grayson](https://click-grayson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
